Deus ex Caduceus
by Totschafe
Summary: AU. Hospitals are a place of sanctum and healing. They can also places of life, death, love, hate, torment, and peace. Just ask the staff at the University of Seireitei Hospital. ShuuKira, GinRan, IchiRuki, ByaRen, UkiUno and many more.
1. Night Shift

Woo, I have no idea how to explain this fic without sounding absolutely crazy. It's my first AU fic and it's been itching my brain since last night so I had to write it. I thought it would be awesome to have a fic where all the Bleach characters worked in a hospital. Why? Well, that's the part I can't explain very well. :P I'm not even going to try.

Anyways, these are just four of the characters I'm going to use for this fic. Believe me, if anyone thinks it's good, then there'll be a lot more! That, and a crapload of pairings. :3 Gah, I have so many plans. So pleasepleaseplease read and review. This stinkin' fic is going to make my brain explode. XD

And Gin is NOT a creeper in this. I thought he would just make an adorable pediatrician for some reason. That, and I think he'd look smexy in a lab coat. XD I think this is the first fic on FF where Gin is a good guy and not a sadistic bag o' douche. Well hurhur, I love him.

Just as well, for anyone curious, the title means 'God in the Caduceus' as a play-on of 'Deus ex Machina' or 'God in the Machine'. The caduceus is the international symbol of medicine and you might recognize it as the two snakes curling around a staff with little wings on the side. :3 I thought it was appropriate.

Oh, and a final note, the hospital in this is modeled after the University of Michigan hospital where my mom and two aunts work. I know that hospital pretty darn well and have spent many a 'Take Your Kid to Work' days in that place. Therefore, it inspired the construction for it. And thanks to my mom for giving me medical terms and all! Hwaha!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach or a hospital, or anything like that. I'm not even a nurse. DX

* * *

**Deus ex Caduceus**

**01 - Night Shift  


* * *

**

Home for Shuuhei Hisagi was not some place with four walls and a roof, nor with a kitchen or a bedroom or anything such as that. No, home for Shuuhei Hisagi was an x-ray lab, with leaden aprons and machines that hummed and clicked in a rhythm he came to call 'soothing'. Home was the University of Seireitei Hospital, with a cafeteria instead of a kitchen and Formica-topped counters for beds. He didn't have a real 'home' as far as he was concerned. Twelve-hour shifts in the middle of the night had seen to that. It wasn't as if he didn't like it though. Actually, he found it all perfectly suited to him and decided he wouldn't have it any other way.

Shuuhei had graduated from the university purely on grants and scholarships, itching to be a radiographer as far back as he could remember. He had been a rebel in high school (proving it through getting some questionable tattoos on his face), concealing a certain genius that only made itself present once within the institution of college. It was this genius that sent his Rukongai-born self to some place as ridiculously prestigious as the University of Seireitei. Before long, he was managing MRIs and x-rays with finesse and skill, wowing his teachers and pinning a job at the hospital two years before he graduated.

That job had led him to his current position, which at the moment was getting out of his car at eight o'clock at night, stretching out and yawning while re-arranging his dark blue scrubs that had been his uniform for almost three years. He grabbed his backpack and locked the car up, starting towards the enormous hospital.

The radiology lab was only two floors above the lobby in the main building, adjacent to the children's hospital mostly for convenience. Shuuhei trekked his normal route, going up in the commercial-sized elevator meant for transporting patients in stretchers. He yawned again and scratched the back of his head, watching the numbers on the steel panel light up before hearing the tiny female electronic voice somewhere above his head announce, "Second floor, radiology."

"Good morning sunshine!" a cheery voice called as he stepped out into the hallway. Shuuhei turned to see his best friend, Renji Abarai, standing there in scrubs identical to his own. The redhead grinned while holding a large goldenrod folder meant for transporting x-rays.

"Hey Renji," Shuuhei said, offering a tired smile back. "What brings you here from your den in the ER?"

Renji shifted himself so that the folder was resting a little on his hip. "We got a twelve-year-old with a pretty nasty bone fracture down there so I came by to pick up the x-rays. So what's up with you? You're not exactly looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"Didn't get much sleep today," Shuuhei offered, switching his backpack from one shoulder to another.

"Well, you better wake up because you've got one coming up in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh?" The grin Renji gave Shuuhei was one the brunet associated with '_certain doom_' and he cringed at the sight. "That bad huh?"

"Does a ten-car pileup on a highway bring any images to mind?"

"Jeez. How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad. I haven't been down there the entire time but I can tell you from what I've seen, you're going to have your hands full."

Shuuhei cursed under his breath and shrugged. "And here I thought I'd actually get a nap in."

"Hah!" Renji snorted. "In your dreams Shuu. Anywho, I'd better get down there before Ikkaku starts ranting at me again." He pressed the button that led down to the lobby and turned to grin at his friend. "Have fun!"

"Oh, loads," Shuuhei responded, waving once before turning around and walking down to the lab. Once inside, he set his backpack down on one of the counters and shrugged off his jacket.

"Ah, Hisagi-san, you're in," a low voice said from behind him. Shuuhei turned to see a tall pale man in a labcoat standing by one of the desks. White hair had been pulled into a ponytail and kind brown eyes regarded the younger male pleasantly. "I'm sure Abarai-san regaled your to-do list?"

"Very clearly Dr. Ukitake," Shuuhei affirmed, fighting back another yawn.

"Didn't get much sleep?"

"Not as much as I wanted."

"Sorry for that Hisagi. I'm sure this isn't what you wanted to hear just coming into work."

"Eh, it's what I live for," the tattooed man excused

The doctor smiled and nodded, straightening out one sleeve of his coat. "That's a good attitude to have. Now the patients came in about an hour ago. There's four of them, two of which you will be x-raying."

"What about the other two?"

Ukitake looked perturbed and shook his head. "Critical condition at the moment."

Shuuhei internally winced and felt a pang of sympathy for Renji who really despised when people were under critical condition. The redhead had always worked in the ER but only because he had the energy for it. There was nothing he liked about working with those who were fighting for their lives. Shuuhei made an attempt to clear his head of that and looked back at the doctor. "So what am I looking at?"

"On one, you'll be doing a full chest scan and legs while the other requires a right arm scan."

"Side or frontal impact?"

"Frontal on the first, side on the second."

"Ouch," Shuuhei hissed. The very idea of a frontal impact in a car made his chest ache. "Alright, I'll be right on it."

"Very good Hisagi," Ukitake chirruped, patting the dark-eyed male on the head before leaving the lab. Another curse escaped Shuuhei's lips as he took his backpack and coat to the break room. With a trained series of wrist flicks, he got his locker open and shoved the contents inside, closing the metal door and resting his head against it.

"This is going to be one hell of a night."

* * *

"Oi! Ikkaku! I got the scans back!" Renji shouted as he dashed into the break room of the ER. A bald man sat in one of the navy-colored plastic chairs, scribbling something on a clipboard. His eyes flew up to Renji and without warning, grabbed the folder from his hands. Renji stepped backwards in surprise. "Okay, okay! You don't have to be like a cobra! I would've given 'em to ya _nicely_."

"Yeah, whatever," Ikkaku murmured, opening the folder and taking out the black sheets inside. He held one up under the fluorescent lighting above and sighed. "_Kami_, that is one nasty break."

"You're telling me. I'm surprised that kid ain't asking for a mercy kill."

"Oh, Yumi hooked him up on an IV an hour ago. He won't be asking for much for awhile," the bald man said, looking at another x-ray. "Ya think he got any marrow loosened in there?"

Renji shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "I'unno. That's not my job to look."

Ikkaku stood up and put the x-rays back in the folder, tying it back up and holding it under one arm. He cast one tattooed glance at Renji. "I'm gonna give these to the nurses up on A1 so they can take a look. You got the pileup patients tonight."

"Shit, are ya kiddin' me?" Renji growled. "Is it just me?"

"For an hour at least."

"_Shit_," the redhead repeated. "What's Yumi doin'?"

Ikkaku rolled his eyes in annoyance. "He got the _bone fracture_ kid! Don't you pay attention?"

Renji crossed his arms in front of him and sneered. "Oh yes Ikkaku, I can catch everything when this entire floor is formidable maelstrom of _pain_."

"Then why the hell do ya work here?"

"I'm an adrenaline junkie," Renji excused.

"Well, get on it Abarai. Those patients ain't gonna take care of themselves."

"Yeah, yeah. Get movin' baldy."

"Oi!"

Before Ikkaku could throw an insult at Renji, the maroon-eyed man was already back out the door, flying with ER nurse speed to the room where his patients awaited. The entire floor smelled like a strange mix of sterility and blood. Renji hated that smell with a passion. Then again, he hated where he worked. Every day was a battle between life and death. He had lost patients before and each was another tick on an already guilty conscience. How unfortunate it was that he would be one of the quickest to respond to bad situations. He had been _praised_ for that! What praise was there in trying to help people in their frail shells that they had damaged? Over and over again, he would ask himself the same question Ikkaku had asked him: 'Why do I work here?' He could never get a straight answer, even from himself.

He reluctantly reached the room he had been assigned to, peeking in and internally cringing. Four beds had been haphazardly arranged to suit the four near-corpses. Two of them were missing, obviously on their way to radiology. The other two were in the state Renji dreaded. One, a young blue-haired male, lay on his bed with bandages wrapped from just below his nose down to the end of his abdomen. His jaw had been shattered in the accident, and with it shattered any hope of ever being normal again.

"Poor bastard," Renji murmured, examining the male. He eyed the chart beside him. '_Grimmjow huh? A foreigner too. That really sucks._' The chart was like the contract that sealed Grimmjow's fate. Perhaps it was a fate where he would never walk again, or where talking would be impossible. It was a contract with Grimmjow's name printed clearly at the top, and a signature space waiting for the devil himself at the bottom.

Renji had to be that devil.

He looked at the heart monitor, which was chirping like an electronic bird beside the body. Grimmjow's heart appeared to be holding out for the best at the time, beating at a quick but steady pace. His blood pressure was hardly making the same improvements. It faltered and dropped low too frequently. Everything on the machine seemed wrong except for the heartbeat. '_And I bet you'd prefer it if that was gone too, wouldn't you?_' Renji silently asked. He had once heard of assisted suicide before and for a while, he thought it was wrong. However, seeing people like Grimmjow wasting away with almost no hope of recovering made the idea seem just fine.

When he was finished looking over Grimmjow's vital signs, he sighed in defeat and quickly scribbled a half-hearted signature at the bottom of the paper, showing he had been there. He gave one last sympathetic look at Grimmjow, from his wild-colored hair to the odd green markings on his eyes that reminded him strongly of Ikkaku's own red ones. "I wonder what you were like," Renji mused aloud before walking over to the next patient.

The second one was about as bad as Grimmjow. He was a young male, obviously just getting out of his teenage years. His hair was fluffy and black, attractive if it wasn't for the blood caked into it from a head injury. His skin was pale to the point of looking gray, signaling that he probably wouldn't last very long. What caught Renji were two long dark markings beneath the boy's eyes, resembling tear tracks.

"It's like you knew," Renji said, looking closer. They were definitely there on purpose, each a deep and unnatural cyan color. Renji was no stranger to the pain associated with tattoos but he couldn't possibly comprehend how much it hurt to get _those_ done. "Probably hurts more now compared to getting those, eh…" He glanced back down at the chart. "Ulquiorra? Funny name."

So here were two unfortunate foreigners who probably never saw it coming. For all Renji knew, they were just on vacation or something of the like. They were probably just trying to enjoy an evening and ended up getting it a car wreck unlike anything their imaginations could conjure. Their vital signs told their internal story well enough. Like everyone else that went through that place, they were fighting for their lives. Unfortunately, their time was almost up. The damage done to Grimmjow's jaw and Ulquiorra's skull had ended whatever attempt at a normal life the two had going for themselves. Renji just hoped they wouldn't have to wake up to realize what had happened.

As Renji signed his name to that damned chart, he sighed aloud. He _really_ hated where he worked. If he could possibly be transferred to anywhere else in the hospital, he would possibly be the happiest man in Japan. For now, he would have to keep playing his part as a devil on adrenaline.

* * *

Cafeteria coffee was one of the foulest substances ever produced, Byakuya Kuchiki figured. God forbid it didn't have caffeine in it because then it might have to be considered hazardous material. For _Kami_'s sake, he could taste the grounds in it! With a slight wince and a protest from the back of his tongue, he swallowed another gulp of the liquid and suppressed a shudder. Next time, he would stop on his way to work at some place decent before even considering buying another cup of coffee from the cafeteria.

It had been one of the few times the neurosurgeon had ever been close to late in his life. He had started the afternoon by picking up his sister-in-law from her residency position in the hospital, dropped her back off at their house, drove into town for lunch with another neurosurgeon, drove back home to fit in an hour-long nap, and then finally made his way to work. His poor Aston-Martin couldn't take much more torture.

Of course, the day just had to get worse. A message on his pager informed him that there would be an immediate surgery within an hour and in an attempt to keep himself on his toes, he had to purchase the most disgusting cup of coffee in the world, which he thought should be trademarked. He hoped to any deity that would be kind enough to bless him that day that the surgery would go effortlessly and he would be all set for the night.

Still feeling wronged by his choice in beverages, he walked into his office and begrudgingly put the cup on his desk where it shouldn't belong. He quickly glanced over the numerous Post-It notes left on his desk before digging around in his desk for a spare pair of scrubs seeing as how he didn't have much time to change at home. Closing the blinds overlooking the rest of the hospital, he attempted to quickly change into the outfit.

Suddenly, the door to his office opened with a gusto. "Dr. Kuchiki! They need you in the-… Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" It was Nanao Ise, one of the neurosurgery department's new residents. She gaped at the sight before her, blushing like a schoolgirl. Byakuya stood in the middle of the room, slumped over and certainly pantsless with only his long dress shirt covering anything.

"Ise! Out, out, OUT!" he hissed, hopping over humorously on one foot to shut the door behind the rapidly apologizing student. This time, he locked the door. With a groan of annoyance and now irritation that his day was going so badly, he pulled his scrub pants up and tied them around his narrow hips. Making sure that _no one_ would interrupt him, he slid his shirt off and replaced it with the dark blue uniform shirt, sliding his labcoat over it.

Unlocking the door, he walked back out into the open, checking his pager once more and verifying that he had enough time to get down to the operating room and still be on time.

He heard some scuffling behind them and turned to see a bowing Nanao behind him, blushing profusely and stammering. "I am _so_ sorry Dr. Kuchiki! I had no idea that you were…dressing. I'm really, honestly sorry!"

"It's fine Ise-san," Byakuya said, waving his hand dismissively. "Is Dr. Kyoraku down in the operating room yet?"

"Yes," she said, standing up to her full height, which was still considerably shorter than himself. "He's there and Dr. Ukitake will be down later to supervise."

"How many nurses are there?"

"Four along with the anesthesiologist."

Byakuya nodded and glanced at his watch. "Very well. Thank you Ise-san."

"I'm still _very_ sorry Dr. Kuchiki. If there is _any_ way I can make it up to you, I'll do it."

"Well… There is _one_ thing you can do."

Nanao perked up and stood at full attention. "What would that be?"

Byakuya couldn't help but smirk. "Get me a decent cup of coffee by the time the surgery is done." With that, he proceeded down the hallway to the operating room where his newest patient awaited. Nanao stood there for a moment, clutching her clipboard to her chest and watching him walk away. Once he was out of sight, she turned towards the cafeteria. She heard they had the _best_ cups of coffee there.

* * *

Gin Ichimaru had seen far too much death in his twenty-six years of life. He had started working at the hospital at the tender age of nineteen, having graduated high school just after his sixteenth birthday and getting his bachelor's just shy of his eighteenth. He had been called a genius by many, praised for his enormous talent in medicine. However, with that praise came something far more sinister. People had the unfortunate habit of losing their lives around him. No matter how many attempts he made to save lives, sometimes he felt he fell just short of what he aimed for.

Not many could figure how badly it bothered him, due to the permanent grin on his face. He held it at all times, save for when a new pile of paperwork came at him or when one of his assistants did something ridiculously stupid such as not changing filters in time or leaving a bedpan out for all to smell. Then, he was just plain _wrathful_.

It was certainly a surprise when Gin had changed his mind part way through his master's degree to go from the guaranteed success of neurosurgery to something as insignificant as pediatrics. However, Gin was no stranger to child sickness and for some reason; he thought death couldn't touch anyone below the age of thirteen. Besides, that grin was popular with the kids and he had earned the affectionate nickname of 'foxface' from many of the permanent ones.

He wasn't bad with kids by any means. In fact, it proved to be a specialty above specialties. He seemed to have a soothing effect on children (though he freaked the daylights out of their parents for reasons he couldn't get) and felt more natural around them. Adults held onto life in vain, wanting to live merely so they _could_. Children held onto life because they weren't done yet and they had so much more to do. Gin wanted to help them with that goal. Well, that and the wall murals were much nicer to look at than the starch-white walls of all the other floors.

However, death didn't leave him alone there either. Suddenly, he came face-to-face with monsters like childhood leukemia and babies who had awful birth defects that no one should live through. Death chased him like a fox chasing a rabbit, and funny that he was compared to a fox so much when deep down, he felt like the rabbit.

Even so, he went to work every single day with his grin on his face and the air of someone who enjoyed working. He did love his job and he certainly wouldn't trade it for one in neurosurgery or in any of the cardiac units. His talents didn't rest with the brain or the heart. He just wanted those kids to get better and get a new chance at life. He wanted them to see every day as a new start and see every good thing as a surprise. Whenever he got a kid smiling, it just gave him more of a reason to smile.

Yet no one in that hospital made him smile more than one of the newer patients that had arrived only days before this one. The child was one by the name of Yachiru Kusajishi, who had started life with a colic and was now living her third year of life with everything ranging from asthma to diabetes, keeping her weak and unable to function correctly. She was positively adorable though, with fluffy pink hair (Gin didn't even want to guess where that came from) and eyes so big and adorable that Gin resisted snuggling her every time he saw her.

He had taken a liking to her over the past few days and she had done the same to him, calling him 'foxy-chan' and giggling happily whenever she saw him. She would swipe playfully at his stethoscope and would hop around her bed as soon as a tongue depressor made itself present, affectionately calling it the 'icky-choky thing' and making numerous attempts to swipe it out of his hand and add it to her growing collection she kept under her pillow.

So what a surprise it had been when he found out that her father was none other than ER director Kenpachi Zaraki. Nowhere in his mind could Gin make the connection with the giggling ball of cuteness and the tough take-no-crap director. Her mother was long gone; dying shortly after birth and only some old lady would come in and watch her. Gin guessed it was the nanny or something. The only reason he found out was when he had come into work late one day to see Zaraki leaning over the sleeping girl, watching her sadly. He had looked at Gin with such a haunted expression that Gin had to make sure he wasn't still at home asleep.

"Cute, ain't she?" the director had asked.

"Yeah," Gin said, still stunned at the sight.

Zaraki had turned back to look at her and sighed. "This wasn't supposed to happen, y'know. She was always a good baby and healthy as a horse, just like her dad. I don't know what happened."

"She's _yours_?" Gin asked in disbelief.

"Yup, mine through and through."

"W-well then," the pediatrician said quietly, unsure of what to make of the situation. He couldn't rightfully decide if a joke would lighten the mood or just make the touchy-looking doctor want to strangle him. He decided not to risk it and kept his mouth shut.

"She talks about you Ichimaru," Zaraki said after a moment of silence. "I didn't know who she was talking about 'til she said something about her 'foxy-chan'. I guessed that was you."

"Yeah, that's me."

A strange smirk crossed the taller man's face and he nodded. "I didn't take you for someone who would like to take care of kids so much, but I guess you're not so bad after all. She really likes you."

Gin chose to be silent again, his squinted gaze drifting from the impossibly tall doctor to the sleeping girl on the bed. Well, every rock has a fault line, he figured. Yachiru must have been Zaraki's fault line. He could see how that could work, despite the extremely strange lineage issues.

"Well, I gotta get back to the ER," the giant said after another pause. "I'm gonna have a busy night. Take care of her."

"Of course," Gin responded in his quietest voice, holding his position until Zaraki was completely out of the room. Once he was gone, the silver-haired man walked over to the bed and looked down at his tiny patient. Her face was scrunched in sleep, eyes flickering quickly under her eyelids, deep in her dreamland. Suddenly, a sharp cough rasped out of her lungs that it made him jump a little. She coughed a few more times, wincing at the pain in her lungs. After the fit finished, she went back into a peaceful sleep.

It was things like that which bothered Gin the most. Kids weren't supposed to do that. The only time it was okay for a child to cough in such a way was if they took a day of school because they had a little cold or maybe bronchitis if it had to be serious, to which it could be helped by a cup of chicken noodle soup and cartoons. But no three-year-old should ever be in the hospital, suffering from some terminal illness that would never leave her in peace.

That day, after he made his rounds and checked all of the other kids, he went back to Yachiru's room and eased himself into the rocking chair beside her bed. The hospital overlooked nothing when it came to what was in the rooms. He smiled sadly remembering all the times he had seen mothers with sick children sitting in one of these chairs, rocking their child and fighting back tears. There had been too many instances of that. There was too much sadness in the rooms. He could feel it just sitting there. Slowly, he closed his eyes completely, waiting for his assistant to come in and wake him up, or at least Yachiru to. He wouldn't mind being woken up by a flying tongue depressor to the head. At least it was a living child who was throwing it.


	2. Of Love and Coffee

Oh _Kami_, this took so much longer than I anticipated! I lost my flash drive (affectionately named GIN, thankyaverymuch) and thus have been alternating between panic attacks and general urges to give up. Yet I have perservered (looks like it has 'pervert' in it -gigglesnort-) and found the little darling! And, as many fanfiction writers go, I felt the crazed need to post this thing as soon as I had it done. Regrettably, it may have some mistakes and therefore I promise that I will find a beta before the third chapter!

Mistakes aside, I am fairly excited for this chapter. I get to put Ukitake in and coma!Ulquiorra. What could be better? And as a side note, the third chapter is when the stories start to come together and all the happy drama-ness gets to come out. Fun times for everyone!

Also, I'm probably going to be changing around some pairings in this. I mean, there's going to be some change-ups during the duration of the story as well as just plain change-ups for my whim and muse. Hwaha! My problem now is finding a good pairing to publish this under. That proves to be difficult!

Anyways, before I let you off to read the chapter, I shall publish my personal soundtrack that kept me fueled. I'm predicting I'll be doing this in the future for all you Project Playlist users so that you can read along to some music that fits. I'm not saying this chapter will fit the music. It was my muse. XP

**Soundtrack**

A Gorey Demise - Creature Feature (on a side note, I can totally see Shinigami-Gin singing this!)  
Let It Rock - Kevin Rudolf  
Jai Ho - A.R. Rahman  
Music Box - Thrice

And now onto the chappy and away from this obscenely long author's note!

* * *

**Deus Ex Caduceus**

**02 - Of Love and Coffee

* * *

**

Long nights typically started the same for Juushiro Ukitake. If his night began with something wrong, it guaranteed a prolonged duration of work, balanced between numerous papers to fill out down to more patient visits than he could take in any twelve-hour interval of time. However, the doctor was known for his unending well of patience that was true of him down to the core of his being. As a child, a chronic illness had taught him the ways of patience. The coughing would eventually stop, but you had to wait. The medication would come, just not _yet_. After almost twenty-five years of that, he knew patience better than anyone he worked with. A human _patient_ has the word right there, tagged to their name. For that, a good lesson was to be learned.

However, one thing that his illness hadn't taught him was how to deal with romance. He had been so used to nurses around him that he had never realized what they looked like or what it was like being around them. They were just _there_. When he finally entered the workplace of his choosing, his world had been turned upside-down fully by one woman; Retsu Unohana.

The woman should have been a saint at birth, what with patience that matched his, a kind demeanor, a self-sacrificial spirit that even some religious leaders couldn't achieve, and the most beautiful face Ukitake had ever seen. The faceless, nameless nurses of his past were erased the second he saw her roaming the halls of the hospital. At first, he thought she was some sort of angel of mercy, roaming the halls to look for one who needed her. Then he saw her name embroidered onto a starchy labcoat and he was stunned to realize that she was _human_.

Her name and status was soon made known to him through whispers through the hospital. She worked in physical rehab, ocaisonally going to the maternity ward to assist some nurses there and sometimes going to the children's hospital when she had the time. She was a jack-of-all-trades when it came down to it. Exquisitely educated and gorgeous to top it off, Retsu Unohana was a goddess.

Yet years of isolation and pain kept Ukitake at by, shying away from her if she came too close. It irked him that he was such a coward. Before he knew it, years went by and the two had scarcely exchanged a word. They brushed by each other everyday and communication was never established. He called it cowardice and he wondered if she thought it the same.

Miracles came rare to the ivory-haired doctor and he learned not to expect them. In fact, he had been told by dozens of doctors over the years that he probably wouldn't live to see his twenties. A singular miracle happened in which the illness had completely dissipated from his lungs. Beyond that, he counted every blessing. Nevertheless, _another_ miracle occurred on one such prolonged night. Retsu Unohana talked to him.

It was an unexpected series of events. First, a ten-car pileup happened, earning the hospital four new patients, two of which were foreigners. Ukitake made his rounds quickly, visiting the radiology lab, the neurosurgery operating rooms, the emergency floor, and finally rehab to establish a place for the two who were certain to survive. He had talked to a pretty young nurse with odd silvery hair who gladly made places for the two. Suddenly, he smelled something unique enter the room—something fragrant and musky but _warm_. He turned slowly to see Retsu standing there, glorious and saintly in every way with warm eyes that regarded him with the same sweet mien that she gave her patients.

"Dr. Ukitake, what a surprise," she said in her musical voice, the pitch reaching its own individual crests and troughs as though the sentence was an orchestrated piece in itself.

"Oh, hello Dr. Unohana," he managed, trying to keep his composure. He straightened his back and forced a professional smile, concealing his true feelings—which possibly would have forced him on his knees, admitting every feeling of attraction he had ever felt for her.

"What brings you here if I may ask?"

"We've had a rather unfortunate emergency. There are four patients from a ten-car pileup, two of which are in critical condition. The other two will recover but need physical rehabilitation. I was setting up their stay here for when the time comes."

Sympathy colored itself onto Retsu's face, creasing her brow with worry and causing her eyes to be a well of sorrow. Ukitake felt his heart jerk a little at the sight and all he wanted to do was hold her and take that sadness away. What more, he was amazed that no matter how many patients she had, she could still feel something for each and every one of them. It astounded him completely and he found his schoolboy-like crush on her growing. It was as though all those years he had spent away from a normal life were making themselves up in his adult years.

"How awful," she said quietly, brushing away some stray raven hair that had loosened itself from the long braid going down her back. "Thank you Dr. Ukitake for doing this ahead of time. I pray that the other two will be fortunate as well."

_Miracles don't happen often_, a voice echoed in his head. _You were just unexplainably lucky._

"Thank you as well Dr. Unohana. I'm sure the two recovering patients will do well in your care when they arrive."

She nodded at him and turned to the silver-haired nurse. "Isane, would you please take over the clinic for an hour? I have to make my rounds now."

The girl, Isane, bowed her head. "Of course Dr. Unohana. I'll page you if anything comes up."

Retsu walked away with a long elegant gait that hypnotized Ukitake for a moment. He watched after her for a while before Isane cleared her throat audibly. "Is there anything else you need Dr. Ukitake?"

He jerked his head up and found himself blushing and he prayed it was unperceivable. "N-no Isane-san, thank you very much."

He turned to leave the room until she cleared her throat once more. He peered back at her to find the girl staring down at the floor, biting her bottom lip. She raised her warm gray eyes, an expression of nervousness but slyness apparent on her face. "You know Dr. Ukitake, Dr. Unohana _isn't_ married."

Ukitake gawked at her, jaw going slack. "W-what's that supposed to mean?"

"She's single too," Isane added without missing a beat.

A prolonged moment of silence passed between them before Ukitake managed a small grin. "Really?"

Isane sighed in relief that she didn't overstep any boundaries and nodded in affirmation. "Yes, and I've been trying to hook her up for _ages_."

Ukitake snorted and turned back to his original destination. He waved at the nurse once as he strode away. "Thank you Isane-san, I'll keep that in mind."

The moment he was safely out of the rehab clinic, Ukitake couldn't help but grin like a maniac. Sure, he admitted he had a schoolboy crush on Retsu, but he now was _ecstatic_ about it. At least he knew he stood a chance. He ambulated back to his office, swaying himself to a song only he could hear and hoping that no one witnessed him for fear of having everyone think that a mentally incompetent man was working in a first-class hospital.

* * *

"Foxy-chan!" The exclamation was accompanied by a firm _thwack_ to the head that resulted in Gin pawing at his face and groaning. He cracked open one eye to see a blurry pink shape across from him. He then glanced down to see a tongue depressor resting on his lap and he couldn't help but laugh. Yachiru was the best alarm clock there was.

"Nnn… Mornin' Yachiru-chan," he yawned, reaching up and grabbing air to stretch.

"Not mornin' foxy-chan!" Yachiru protested loudly, pointing out a window to the sable outside world. "'s dark out!"

Gin finished his stretch and grinned at her. "It's mornin' for me Yachiru-chan."

"You are silly," she stated in her most adult-sounding voice, which wasn't too terribly convincing as her voice was so squeaky anyways.

The pediatrician stood up and stretched each leg out at a time, walking over to her bed and handing her the tongue depressor. He ruffled her hair playfully before reaching over to take her chart off the wall. "Alrighty Yachiru-chan, let's see how you're doin' today."

"No icky-choky," she said firmly, holding up the tongue depressor and shaking her head.

He laughed and took a pen from the pocket of his labcoat. "No, not yet. Now, how're ya feelin' today?"

"Good!" she chirped happily, twirling the depressor in her hand while looking around the room. "My tummy don't hurt today and my fwoat don't hurt."

"That's good," Gin replied, writing what she said on the chart. He set the chart aside and took his stethoscope off from around his neck. "Okay Yachiru-chan, lean forward."

"Okie dokie!" she said, doing just as he said. He put the diaphragm on her back and she took a deep breath in, holding it just long enough before slowly letting it out. He moved the piece around more, checking each lung and the sounds of arterial flow.

When he finished, he placed the stethoscope back around his neck and wrote his observations on the chart, grinning at her. "You seem to be pretty good today Yachiru-chan. One of the nurses'll come in later and check the rest of ya, okay?"

"Aw, okay foxy-chan," Yachiru said, looking a little crestfallen.

Gin cocked his head and let a rare frown cross his features. "What's wrong?"

She fiddled with the depressor and stuck out her bottom lip. "Yer goin' away."

"I'll still be here silly," he said, ruffling her hair again.

"No, not _here_," she stressed.

Gin stood there for a moment and smiled. "How about this; before I leave, I'll say bye to ya?"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Okay!" she chirped once more, slumping back onto her pillow and pulling her bed sheet up to her nose, large brown eyes looking up at him. "You come back later."

"Absolutely," he responded, grinning at her. She smiled and closed her eyes, nestling into the sheets once more. He smiled gently and turned off the overhead light to give her a better sleeping atmosphere. Once he was sure she was asleep, he walked out in the hallway to his office.

"U-um, Dr. Ichimaru," a quiet voice murmured behind him.

Gin turned around and saw a tired-looking blond man standing by the doors leading into the parking lot, a black backpack slung over one shoulder and a gray hoodie pulled loosely over navy blue scrubs. The pediatrician grinned and waved. "Hey Kira-kun, yer just on time!"

Kira smiled and yawned, scratching at his head. "I thought I was going to be late. Traffic was pretty bad getting here."

"Ah, no problem. Anywho, I'm gonna be in my office if ya need me. I did the rounds already so all you gotta do is yer job and we're all set for the night."

Kira inclined his head as a form of a tired bow and continued down the hall to the break room to put his things in his locker. Gin watched him walk off and smiled. Kira was a good kid, no doubt. He was always on time, did every job efficiently and correctly, and had a relatively good attitude. Sure, he always appeared tired and maybe a little diluted in how he held himself, but once he had a task, he did it with skill and a much brighter demeanor. It was a bit perplexing but Gin liked the blond anyways. He was fun to watch while he worked at least. Kids liked him just about as much as they liked the main pediatrician. Gin guessed it was because of his shocking blond hair and oceanic blue eyes. He was an oddity and the kids _adored_ it. As the silver-haired man figured, anything mundane wasn't welcome in a children's hospital. Anything vibrant, however, was accepted the second it was sighted. Kira was one of those vibrant things.

Trusting that the blond would do a good job, Gin settled into his office and turned on his computer, leaning back as the machine whirred to life. It had been one of the few days where life had seemed to slow down. Normally, Gin's workday was a whirlwind of check-ups, monitoring, simple medical procedures, talking to concerned parents, and filling out mountains of paperwork. Today just seemed more mellow. There were very few parents in at the hour and those who were there were handled by other pediatricians.

The silver-haired man appreciated the random break and took to it by putting his feet up on his desk and idly watching his computer screen run through its normal functions to get to the desktop. While waiting, his eyes drifted around the room from a potted philodendron growing on the top of his bookshelf to a wall scroll depicting Inari running through a field with his fox messengers. He couldn't remember the last time he had made an effort to decorate. The office looked like the polar opposite of his home at least, sans the wall scroll. While the office was clean and organized, his home was a wreck. That's what he got for being single and working the night shift. That house was for sleeping in only.

His thoughts were interrupted when a tinny arpeggio informed him that the computer was up and running. Taking his feet off the desk, he leaned forward and clicked one of the tiny icons on the desktop, ironically it being one of a little fox surrounding a globe. The internet sprang into view and he quickly typed in the address to the hospital website, wasting no time in logging in and going straight to his mail.

"Trash, trash, trash, lunch invite, trash…" he murmured to himself, half-heartedly scrolling through the contents. "Never interestin'," he finally said, deleting all the trash and clicking out of his mail. He went to the patient information site and looked at the roster for the children's hospital. The patient listing had remained about the same with only one or two changes. Two kids had gone home in the last three days and were replaced with one more. One child had gone into surgery (which, Gin noted, went very well) and another was scheduled to be moved into recovery by the end of the week. It was just an average roster that Gin already knew by heart.

Out of sheer curiosity—maybe boredom—he clicked over to the hospital staff news, wondering if anything interesting had happened in the past few days. His pager had gone off earlier in the day with a message meant for the operating room staff. It had seemed urgent enough to go all the way down to his floor, so perhaps there was some big deal that he hadn't caught.

Of course, there was nothing terribly interesting there either. Patient news was classified to respective departments. The only news he could see was that off new residency programs and a few physicians joining departments. Gin sighed and clicked off that as well, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the bridge of his nose. As he relaxed, his pager beeped and vibrated against his desk, jolting him up. He grabbed it and tapped the 'receive' button

_Ichimaru G. to Anesthesia_

"Oh," he said to no one in particular. Standing up, he put the pager back in his pocket, reaching over and shutting his computer down. He had long ago dropped the need to ask 'why?', giving way to solid acceptance of whatever came.

* * *

"I-chi-gooooo!" a loud voice screeched before a loud '_thunkthunkthunk_' was heard. Ichigo Kurosaki arched an eyebrow and peeked out his bedroom door just in time to see a blur of black and white fly at him. He quickly closed the door, a '_WHAM_' resounding through the wood. He reopened the door to see a crumpled, half-dressed man on the floor, clutching his head with one hand and giving a thumbs-up with the other. "Good job my son! Your reaction time is getting much better!"

"Or you're just losing more brain cells," Ichigo replied offhandedly, rolling his eyes and picking a messenger back up off the back of the chair in front of his desk. "Now let's go before Yuzu and Karin think we forgot about them."

Isshin Kurosaki, now recovering from certain head trauma, leaped up and grinned widely. "Of course! Now d'ya know where my labcoat is?"

"Probably still in the laundry basket."

"Why would it be in there?"

"You spilled tomato sauce on it last night."

"I did?"

"Followed by nacho cheese."

"Really?"

"And you spilled an entire bottle of red wine on it."

"…That explains it."

Ichigo brushed past his father and went into the office at the end of the hall. He dug into a closet there and pulled out a clean labcoat, walking back out and handing it to Isshin. "Here's a clean one. Now can we _go_ already?"

Isshin slid the labcoat on and glanced at his son, a cheesy smile covering his face. "What's the rush? We got time."

Ichigo crossed his arms and stuck out his jaw a little. "Nothing. I just want to make it to the hospital on time today."

"You make it on time everyday."

"Do you want me to drive?"

The older man's eyes widened and he grew pale. "No! We'll go!" He flew downstairs and grabbed a ring of car keys and some sunglasses, glancing up the stairs at his son who was looking at him as though he was a total maniac, which wasn't far from the truth.

"I don't get what's so special about your stinkin' car."

"Don't talk about Rebecca like that!"

"You named it? Seriously?" the orange-haired boy asked, walking down the stairs.

"She's a lady and she needs a proper name," Isshin replied, opening the front door and gazing longingly at the cobalt blue Mustang parked in the driveway. Black racing stripes lined the hood and the silver rims glinted at him like stars on a dark night. He couldn't help but sigh. "Ohhh…"

Ichigo went by him once again, eyes narrowed and defiant as usual. He yanked one of the doors open and got it, slamming it shut. He poked his head out the window up at his father. "Come on old man! Quit gettin' off to your car!"

"You shouldn't have slammed her doors like that! She's insulted!"

"It's a _car_!"

Isshin stuck out his bottom lip sadly as he closed the front door behind him. He walked up to the Mustang and lovingly stroked the hood, despite the fact the metal seemed hotter than magma under his hands. "Aw, who's a pwetty widdle girl, huh? Who's my sweet widdle Becky?" he cooed.

The orange-haired boy snarled and slammed his hand on the horn, jolting his father out of his car-lusting reverie. "Dad, would you _move it_?"

Isshin sniffled and opened the door, looking dejected. "You didn't have to hit her so hard Ichigo."

"If you don't get this thing running in ten seconds, I'm going to have to commit patricide."

Isshin didn't say another word as he put the key in the ignition. As he backed out of the driveway, he sighed. "Oh Masaki, if you could just see the ungrateful whelp our son has become."

"Patricide if you don't get down to the traffic light in five seconds."

Needless to say, Isshin was plenty thankful there were no police officers around. He sped down a series of labyrinthine streets until he reached the front of a bustling high school. Waiting near a bench by the curb were two girls—a blonde and a brunette. The brunette rolled her eyes and stormed to Ichigo's side as he stepped out, moving the passenger seat forward so she could get in. She looked up at him and the side of her mouth went up in a sarcastic smirk. "Did the old man drool too long over the car?"

"Yes," Ichigo growled. He looked over at the blonde. "Ne, Yuzu, are you getting in?"

"Ah, yes Ichi-nii!" Yuzu chirped. She leapt into the car after her sister and slid against the leather interior, folding herself a little so Ichigo could put the seat back. He got back in and put his seatbelt on.

"To the hospital!" Isshin happily regaled, his voice reminiscent of a war officer shouting for a 'charge'. He all but stomped on the accelerator, sending the car flying down the road before either of the sisters could properly get their bearings. Ichigo clawed at the leather interior, eyes wide. He couldn't even get a proper sentence out before the looming silhouette of the hospital caught his vision.

Isshin pulled the car to the doors leading in to the main lobby not far from the burn center and the ER. He gave a thumbs up to his son. "See you in a few hours Ichigo!"

Ichigo got out of the car and sighed. "I'd rather walk."

His father pulled on his saddest face, eyes visibly watering with forced tears. "Y-you're ashamed to be seen near me, aren't you?"

"Not a surprise, goat-face," Karin murmured from the back seat.

Isshin whirled around to face his dark-haired daughter, now crying and wiping a trail of mucus from his nose. "K-Karin! That was so harsh!"

She crossed her arms and roughly kicked the back of his seat, leaving a firm gray scuffmark on the leather. "Just drive. If Ichigo needs us, he'll call."

"You scuffed Becky's sexy leather interior!" Isshin said mournfully.

"Never say those words in that order ever again," Karin replied.

"Bye," Ichigo said, banging on the hood of the car to get his father's attention.

"Why are all of you being so abusive to Becky?"

Yuzu's eyes began to water as well and she leaned forward, tiny hands drawn to her chest and head thrust forward. "I didn't do anything daddy!"

Isshin sniffed and pat Yuzu on the head. "I know, and that's why Yuzu is my favorite! Mother would be so proud of you!"

Ichigo finally just rolled his eyes and walked inside, leaving the car full of dorks out where he couldn't hear them (thank the gods). Once the automatic doors had slid shut behind him, he let out a sigh of relief and raked a hand through his fiery orange hair. He stood still in the lobby, glancing around. There were several people mulling about. Some were in scrubs and some were in regular civilian clothing. However, he was only looking for one person. Hopefully she hadn't gone home already.

He looked around once more before letting out a defeated sigh. Schedules always seemed to conflict for him. He went to the residency program at the burn center from three until ten when his father would pick him up, drop him off at home, and then go work at the night shift. This caused chaos in the Kurosaki household that had been maintained ever since the loss of Ichigo's mother. Masaki Kurosaki had been the gods-given balance in her home, being the queen of scheduling. She had once worked alongside Isshin in their college days and they had hooked up merely because she found time in _both_ of their schedules for dates. Ichigo wished he had inherited that talent.

However, now was not the time to dwell. He lacked a car to aid in the three-kid-shuffle that Isshin subjected himself to, so any complaint on his part felt more like an act of hypocrisy since he lacked the ability and materials to help. Of course, he felt guilty and somewhat frustrated, often going to the program in a foul mood that he vented with his temper. Yet that was finally extinguished the day that Rukia Kuchiki had entered the program as well. Ichigo knew full well of her relations in the hospital. He feared striking a friendship with her lest a certain affluent neurosurgeon decide that Ichigo was the perfect guinea pig for demonstrating the long-ago practice of a lobotomy.

Rukia, however, had not feared her brother in the least bit. Instead, she had become like a magnet to Ichigo's side while their schedules ran together. They had quickly become friends, only accented with their frequent arguments that seemed to make the complex relationship all that more exciting. Sometimes, Ichigo wished Rukia's brother-in-law could see her 'mingling with the commoners' (Ichigo always imagined Byakuya saying that in a snobbish tone while in a fez and smoking a pipe) so that he could just rub it in his face. However, he knew better and shut up at the very subject.

Now, the winds of change had taken effect. Ichigo's schedule had been pushed forward so that when Rukia ended her day, he started his. They were lucky if they saw each other for a minute. For that very reason, the orange-haired boy had demanded his father take him to the hospital earlier each day so that perhaps his time with his friend would be prolonged, even if for a moment. Apparently, that wasn't so on that day.

He stood in the lobby a moment more before he saw a bright red spot enter the field of his peripheral vision. He knew that spot better than anyone. "Hey Renji," he said.

"Oi," the redhead greeted, toting in his bag from the parking lot and sighing.

"You're in early today," Ichigo remarked, not really focusing on Renji at all but rather looking around hopefully for the pixie-like girl.

"Yeah," Renji said. "I got a helluva lot of stuff to do an' didn't feel like takin' any heat from Zaraki on whether or not I got my shit together."

"Ah," was all Ichigo said before a strange buzzing silence descended on the two.

Renji seemed to catch on to the atmosphere Ichigo was in. He smirked at the thought and shook his head, adjusting the white bandana covering the tattoos on his forehead. "If you're lookin' for Rukia, her brother picked her up early today." Ichigo spun around, his attention successfully caught. Renji silently congratulated himself before speaking again. "Yeah, Dr. Kuchiki jus' came on in and got her out I guess. I don't know why, but I saw his car on my way here."

"You sure it was his?"

"Anyone else 'round here own an Aston-Martin V12?" Renji asked. Ichigo noticed that his eyes misted at the mere mention of the sports car, and...was that drool coming out of the side of his mouth?

"Well…no, not really."

"My point exactly. An' she was certainly in it."

Another pause entered the conversation and Ichigo furrowed his brow. "Well, _shit_."

"Oi, that's _my_ line strawberry. Now outta my way. I got some dyin' people in need of my sought-after assistance."

Ichigo just rolled his eyes once again. "I'm sure Renji. I bet everyone is just thrilled to see you."

Renji just grinned and walked ahead. "You know it. See ya 'round strawberry."

The orange-haired boy didn't even protest to the nickname but just offered a quick wave back before standing awkwardly in the lobby. He gave one last look around before lowering his shoulders in defeat and walking to the burn center.

* * *

Bones glowed eerily against the pale fluorescent lighting of the board in the radiology lap. Shuuhei arched a dark eyebrow at the sight, crossing his arms and tilting his head thoughtfully. According to one chest x-ray, six ribs had been neatly broken with hardly any damage to the lungs or even the muscle for that matter. It had been an extremely clean (and fortunate) break. However, the x-ray on the right arm Dr. Ukitake had requested told a different tale. It seemed almost mangled on the image, from the cracked elbow to the shattered wrist that looked like someone had inserted broken glass into the skin. It just didn't make _sense_.

He took the x-rays down and frowned at them before inserting them into their own individual goldenrod folders, tying the string around the cardboard circle that held it closed and stacking them on an already growing pile. Once finished, he sat down at an abandoned desk and sighed, rubbing his eyes. Renji had already promised him an exciting night and he felt like he was already worn out. He had put far too much thought into the x-rays, wondering how the same accident had produced such strange images. On one hand, the patient who had received the broken ribs had been in possibly the worst of the wreckage. Yet the patient with the broken arm hadn't even been in the accident completely. Either there was something truly odd about the situation or he was reading too deeply into it.

"Damnit," he cursed, massaging his forehead with his palm, closing his eyes tightly. Suddenly, he smelled something that had the unmistakable scent of mocha close by. Cracking one eye open, he blinked to see a Styrofoam cup on the desk, still steaming. Shuuhei removed his hand from his head and turned to see the grinning face of a young woman with golden red hair and gratuitous amounts of chest.

"Hello there!" she chirped happily.

"Um, hi Rangiku," he replied, unsure of how to react to the lovely woman before him and the caffeine-laden mocha beside him.

"Renji told me about the car accidents and all the x-rays you had to do, so I thought it would be nice if you at least got some kind of power source that wasn't an energy drink."

"Oh, thank you," he said politely, taking the cup and wrapping his hands around it, still painfully unsure of what to do. Rangiku was arguably one of the most gorgeous women ever to step foot inside the hospital and there wasn't a man within its walls that didn't want her at some time or another. Yet Shuuhei assumed that none of them had ever been faced with the awkwardness of her being in such close proximity to them.

"Soooo…" she said after a moment. "Anything fun and exciting in the world of Shuuhei Hisagi?"

"Uh, not really. I…" His voice trailed off and he thought for a moment. "I got a new litter box for my cat?"

"You have a cat?" she asked suddenly, her eyes brightened. "Me too! It's a big gray thing. _Totally_ adorable. What about yours?"

Shuuhei was taken aback by her sudden excited outburst but managed a smile for her sake at least. "It's just a really fluffy black cat. I'm not quite sure if there's a breed name for it. He seems kind of mixed."

"Aww, he sounds cute!" she gushed. Shuuhei had heard that she was very personable, but whoever told him that underestimated her extroverted personality. She smiled sweetly at him and he swore his heart stopped for a second. He had never really been too into dating, or women for that matter. Even so, for someone as ridiculously gorgeous as she was, it was hard not to be even the least bit attracted. She stood up and brushed some of her golden red hair over her shoulder. "Well, just wanted to make sure everything is okay up here. I'd better get back down to the office. Anesthesia waits for no injured person!"

"Oh… Well, thanks for the coffee," he said shyly, inwardly cursing his inability to make a decent conversation with her.

"Any time darling! I'll check up on you later if you want!"

"Only if you want," he replied, taking a sip from the cup. The mocha was still reasonably hot and burnt the tip of his tongue. He held back a hiss and just smiled as though he completely enjoyed it.

She grinned at him before strolling off with her elegant gait. He sighed once she was out of sight and set the cup back on the desk, propping his feet up on the Formica base and scattering some unwanted paper with his heel. He didn't understand why Rangiku had bothered to visit anyways. It wasn't like any of the patients who came to his floor needed anesthesia. Besides, she couldn't have possibly visited for anything higher than friendship. She had a thing for that fox-faced pediatrician who creeped the hell out of Shuuhei. Maybe she had an extra cup of coffee and just so happened to be near the lab. He couldn't think of any other probable reason.

With a loud yawn, he tilted his head back and began to count the brown flecks on the ceiling tiles. Sure, he had more than enough work to do, but he had hours to do it. What he really needed was some time to sit back and relax. Sleep was an empty thing in reality. It was like recharging a device but never using it. He was just left to stand around. The relaxation part was what he was in dire need of, and he never got enough even on his days off. Closing his eyes bit by bit, he let every muscle loosen just enough so that he wasn't asleep, but certainly wasn't awake. It was in this state that he felt at least a little more optimistic about everything. As far as he was concerned, optimism was one thing the University of Seireitei Hospital needed more than rest.

* * *

Ulquiorra couldn't find the correct words for what he had seen, heard, and felt in those last moments. He scrolled through terms like _crush_, _smash_, _steel_, _fire_, _glass_, _shatter_, and _pain_. None of those words seemed _right_. They were hardly applicable to something as monstrous as all that had assaulted his senses. Perhaps it was because he had suddenly been deprived of all of them. To hell with adjectives and nouns now. What good were they? He needed more words to at least keep himself occupied.

At least he could figure out that he wasn't alone and he certainly wasn't dead (although by now death seemed like a heavenly alternative to sense deprivation). He couldn't really name what made him aware of what he was feeling—or if it was feeling at all. There was some magnetic pull in his being that ran through his whole body, yet he couldn't feel a thing. He just knew that there was still life in him. To add to that, there was _something_ keeping him alive. It confused him, but he wasn't causing himself to live. He was being assisted.

Next to that, he had this strange feeling (there he goes with _feeling_ again) that he wasn't the only one in his current position. There was that pull, but it was someone else's pull. Perhaps it was that last pull of life and all who could feel it came together like iron filings to a magnet. No matter how hard he tried, Ulquiorra couldn't find the source. He searched through his blindness only to find more darkness. Yet he kept trying. There was someone else out there behind that dense sheet that kept him from seeing the outside world. Maybe they were reaching back, feeling him too.


	3. Compound Fracture

Well, the beta process took a little bit of time, but I think it worked for the best! :D I'd like to thank my friend (not on FF despite the fact she's a fantastic writer) NoxicHarem. She's amazing. :3

So I also spent some time with my radiographer aunt who very nicely explained how an x-ray worked. Hurrah!

By the way, has anyone noticed 'Be Prepared' from the Lion King is SUCH an Aizen song? XD

And the patient in here's name is Kichiro which can mean 'lucky'. As you will see, this is a big pun. -gigglesnort-

Anyways, trying to keep this short, the next chapter should show some of the characters out of the hospital and mingling. And it's definitely when pairings start! I'd also like it if some lovely reviewers would be so kind as to say what character they'd like to see more of or maybe which character should have a bigger part. That would be nice. :D So, I'll finish up so you can get reading!

* * *

**Deus ex Caduceus**

**03 - Compound Fracture  


* * *

**

"Abarai!" Ikkaku shouted as Renji checked the vital signs of a patient with a high fever. The redhead whirled around, pointing at himself. Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "No, I'm talking to the Abarai next to you. _Yes, you_!"

"Yeah?"

"Zaraki needs you to go up to neurosurgery and get something from one of the docs there."

Renji blinked at the request. Zaraki had unofficially deemed Renji as the ER's messenger and delivery boy, but he had never been sent to neurosurgery. Besides, wasn't that kind of a distance? "Uh, alright," Renji responded uneasily, fiddling with one of the elbow-length sleeves of his scrubs out of habit.

"Good, now out!" Ikkaku half-shouted, waving his hand wildly to shoo the redhead out.

Renji sighed and shuffled out of the room, finding his way to the elevator. The ER was on the main floor for easy access. If he remembered correctly, neurosurgery was on the third floor of the main complex. As he waited for the elevator to return to his floor, he made a mental map of where to go. He would go up the elevator, turn left straight out onto the third floor, make his way through two sets of hallways including the anesthesia department, and eventually end up somewhere in the vicinity. He had been there once or twice to move patients along for emergency surgeries, but he hadn't taken much notice of where he was going.

The silver doors opened and Renji walked on, poking the small '3' button and resting his back against the translucent plastic railing at the hind end of the small space. His eyes drifted to the reminder taped to the elevator door, stating '_Patient information is not to be discussed in the elevator_'. Renji couldn't even count how many times he had broken that rule. He faintly remembered hearing about some health and privacy act passed some years back, but that hardly set in to his mind. There was a threat of being fired if confidential information was shared, but Renji prided himself on being careful.

"Third floor," the tiny electronic voice announced, "Anesthesia, neurosurgery, neurology."

"Like I didn't know that," Renji responded, slipping out of the doors and walking down the all-too bright hallway decorated in locally-made artwork that would honestly never make it out of the hospital if art critics had anything to say about it. Renji's favorite was a particular odd piece that he believed was supposed to be a peacock with a body made of recycled car parts and a tail made of bent brass wire. The thing was hideous. Renji wanted to take it home and put it in his bedroom.

Once he passed the metal peacock, he entered the constantly-moving anesthesia department. Dr. Toshiro Hitsugaya headed the department. Like many doctors and soon-to-bes, Hitsugaya was a prodigy in his own right. He graduated high school early and managed to become a certified doctor at the age where he should have just been getting his bachelor's degree. However, intellect and an impressive record did not make up for two very obvious things: he had white hair and he was as short as an eleven-year-old was. Normally, Hitsugaya responded to the insults he got with a temper to be feared. From what Renji heard, only his assistant, a pretty young nurse by the name of Momo Hinamori could call him anything.

Renji had gone to the same college as Momo, as well as Shuuhei (who was almost ready to graduate by the time Renji got in), and a pediatrics nurse named Izuru Kira. For this reason, the four got along almost flawlessly once in the working world. Knowing Momo for as long as he did, Renji could completely understand why Hitsugaya wouldn't mind her saying a word (he heard "Shiro-chan" was her favorite) and that she could probably get away with anything she wished.

He brushed through the ward, waving and smiling pleasantly at acquaintances. Momo was nowhere in sighed so he didn't have much of a reason to stick around. Instead, he pressed on to the neurosurgery department.

The neurology and neurosurgery ward always stuck out in Renji's mind merely for the reason that it had a very strange and noticeable atmosphere that contrasted to the buzzing and energetic ER and the quick-flowing anesthesia department. This department felt almost elegant, as if it was possible. The lights seemed dimmer in a pleasant way and there was a strange aura that made Renji feel inferior.

Even the receptionist had finesse to her at first glance that gave Renji the illusion that he was some homeless man that had walked into a mansion. "May I help you?" she asked in a serene tone.

"Uh, yeah. Dr. Zaraki sent me here to get something from one of the doctors."

The receptionist opened a folder filled with laminated forms and dozens of well-organized notes. She moved like a musician turning pages of some classical piece as if it came from Beethoven himself. "Ah," she finally murmured, one long pianist finger pointing at a squared-off box on a laminated sheet. "You're to meet Dr. Kuchiki I believe."

"Ku…Kuchiki?" Renji asked, eyes wide. It had completely escaped him that Byakuya Kuchiki did indeed work in neurosurgery. Renji had known Rukia for a long while before she had been adopted, so Byakuya was a somewhat familiar sight to him. That didn't make the doctor any less intimidating.

"Yes," the receptionist answered, hands now folded in a prayer-like fashion and head tilted. "His office is to the left, down the hallway. You can't miss it."

Stammered words fought to escape Renji's mouth but he held it back, fearing that uttering even the hint of a stutter would make him a prime target as if the neurosurgery department was made of etiquette instructors. "Okay," he said after a pregnant pause, rushing away from the desk to where the doctor's office was located.

Nails bit into Renji's palms as he walked. Teeth gritted painfully and set a dull ache through his molars. Hopefully, Byakuya had forgotten who Renji was (which seemed probable as Byakuya probably didn't remember anyone with an income below six figures) and would think him a stranger. It didn't help that the last time the two had met, Renji was still living in a shelter with Rukia.

With his fist still clenched, Renji knocked on the thick frosted glass of the door bearing the neurosurgeon's name. A soft murmur of the positive sort floated through, causing Renji to open the door just a small amount. "Dr. Kuchiki?"

"Come in," the ebony-haired doctor said, his eyes far too focused on a report on his desk to note who was calling on him.

Renji slipped inside, stopping himself from gaping at the impressive exterior of the office. Bookshelves made of oak and cherry wood lined the walls, filled to maximum capacity with leather-bound dictionaries, classic works, and endless texts of many sorts. Several exotic plants grew around the room, adding small splashes of bright color to the burnished shade scheme. Under Renji's feet was an oriental rug that the redhead bet was from some place like Kashmir (and handmade as well). Even the desk was a masterpiece, made of elegantly carved dark wood and shining like the doctor had polished it whenever it fancied him. Byakuya himself topped it all off in appearance alone. He added to the room's elegance with his unusual male beauty that Renji couldn't ignore. He just gaped at the sight, finding his memory blank of any model-like doctor adopting Renji's best friend.

"Yes?" Byakuya said quietly, raising blue eyes to glance at Renji. Renji swore that those eyes widened at the sight of him, but it may have well been a trick of the light as far as he could tell.

"Ah, sorry. Dr. Zaraki sent me to pick something up from you."

"Right," Byakuya said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out the universal goldenrod folder that may have well been the symbol of Renji's career. He handed it to the redhead and folded his hands much like the receptionist had. "Tell Dr. Zaraki to look over the contents and see if everything is complete. It's a full report of a surgery of one of the emergency room patients. The patient returned there post-surgery after there was an abscess found on the neck that needed to be drained. Do you know of it?"

"Yeah," Renji responded instantly, not wanting to appear incompetent. "She came down there last night and we had to use a PICC line to drain it. It went really deep."

"I see. I trust it worked?"

"Like a charm," Renji answered. "We sent her into recovery not even an hour later."

Byakuya closed his eyes in a movement Renji passed as satisfaction. He brought his hands up to his lips and let out a soft sigh through his nose. It was in that moment that Renji spotted a shimmering gold and diamond ring on the doctor's finger. His eyes widened and he straightened his back. To think he had just been silently admitting attraction beforehand. The man was _married_ already! With an awkward bow/nod, Renji went to excuse himself, arm latched firmly around the folder.

Just as his hand touched the doorknob, the smooth voice spoke once more, "Abarai?"

Renji turned his head slowly, looking at the doctor. "Yes?"

"So it is you," he said quietly. "I thought it was."

"You… You remember me?" Renji asked. Immediately, he wanted to take it back. It was such a stupid question, sounding almost _hopeful_. Deep down in the very recesses of Renji's soul was that stray dog he had always attributed himself to. That dog always wanted to go home with someone. Was Kuchiki's voice bringing back that want? It was stupid, of course, as Renji was now a full-grown adult with his own house and career.

Byakuya shifted in his seat and managed a nod. "I did wonder what happened to you. I believe Rukia may have mentioned you working here some time ago, but I forgot." He paused and unfolded his hands, letting them rest in an open position as though holding something invisible. "It's good to see you're working."

Renji was silent for just a moment before nodding. "Thanks," he said. His hand began to turn the handle again, relishing in the cool metal soothing his nail-bitten skin.

"Ah," Byakuya called once more, looking almost unsure of himself. "I'll…see you around then," he finished.

Renji's eyes widened just slightly. "Dr. Kuchiki?"

The doctor shifted in his seat and let his eyes drift to the pile of reports he had been sorting through earlier. "I said I would see you around."

"I… I work in the ER," Renji said suddenly. Yet again, he regretted it. Byakuya wasn't stupid. He knew that already. The redhead just didn't understand why the doctor had said it.

"I know that," Byakuya answered. He looked confused all of a sudden. "Do you like working there?"

"Uh… I guess so," Renji said, unsure of what else to say. Had Byakuya softened up over the years or was Renji just biased previously?

"Oh," the black-haired man responded, reaching for the pile and regaining the emotionless façade Renji remembered him for. "You're excused. Have Dr. Zaraki call if there is any problem or question."

"Y-yeah," Renji said, finally opening the door and exiting. Once safely away from the office, he let out the stunned sigh he had been holding back the whole time. Dr. Byakuya Kuchiki, renowned and famous neurosurgeon with enough credit and success to fill an Olympic-sized pool, had _remembered_ him. On top of that, he had _asked _about him! What was Renji supposed to think? His memory only offered him the image of a stern-faced man who had taken Rukia away. That same stern-faced man drove that godly Aston-Martin with a stiffened and snobbish posture.

'_Maybe I'm just bitter,_' Renji thought to himself, walking back to the elevator quietly. '_Rukia was adopted and I was left behind. She got all that money without even trying because of him. I had to work my ass off to get this far._' He allowed a small grimace onto his face for a moment as he tapped the orange arrow-shaped button on the silvery panel beside the elevator.

For all those years, Renji had been virtually alone, both with relationships and friends. He had no guidance and served as his own beacon of hope. Optimism was the only thing he had going. Until he met Shuuhei, Izuru, and Momo, Renji's optimism had almost run out and he felt like he was drowning. Yet that trio managed to call him back to shore, bandaging him up and caring for him like no one else ever had.

So how in the world did Byakuya look at him like nothing had ever happened? How dare he ask how Renji was doing after he left him friendless and despairing? Yet how could he tease Renji with that gentle beauty, only to reveal he was taken permanently? Conflicting arguments and emotions waged an all-out war in Renji's head.

'_Patient information is not to be discussed in the elevator_' Renji read once more. Maybe he should run out the elevator doors screaming every detail of every patient he had ever known. Then maybe he would be fired and could get away from this madhouse and away from the ghosts of his past coming to haunt him. In the end, as the doors opened, Renji decided that he would just forget he had ever had a conversation with Dr. Kuchiki.

* * *

Although Izuru Kira's alarm clock was set at three-thirty in the afternoon, he always managed to get up exactly a minute before it went off. His eyes would shoot open and he would manage to get his grasp on the waking self just before the dry screech of the clock would jolt him. He would jump or flinch every single time, cursing at himself before rolling over and ungracefully smacking the clock to get it to stay silent.

Such seemed to be the story of his life in digital clock form. He would always see a situation coming, unsure of what to do. It would hit him full-force and without mercy, mowing him down and leaving him to fight his way out. Such a routine would repeat itself every time. He couldn't even count the fingers on both hands to account for how many times such occurrences had happened. He assumed it began with the death of his parents and eventually led to the obvious strangeness that came with working under Dr. Gin Ichimaru. Izuru could see _all_ of it coming at him. He just didn't know how to get out of the way or stop it altogether.

While standing in the bathroom after waking up, Izuru could even see his demise coming at him. It was a slow sort of destruction that he couldn't escape. It drained the life away from his face, leaving him pale and gaunt. His eyes, once a fascinating oceanic color, had been toned down to an opaque and flat blue. It wasn't cerulean or even deep enough to be called aqua. No, they were just _blue_.

His frame was wiry and delicate, looking like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Pale skin was stretched over the skeleton, a thin layer of muscle providing just the smallest amount of shape. He thought of himself as pathetic. It baffled him that anyone would let him work with kids, as frightening as he believed he appeared.

Gin insisted time and time again that Izuru was like the dream pediatrician. Gin had called him 'vibrant' and 'exciting'. Maybe that was his work appearance, he figured. Gin couldn't have possibly been serious. If vibrancy and excitement were traits to be desired, Izuru was left with nothing while Gin had everything.

Often on his drive to work, he would contemplate whether or not he liked his job. He liked being around kids (thoroughly convinced he would never have his own) and enjoyed taking care of them. However, there was something about his job that bothered him. It wasn't the fact he had to go in at the dreg hours of the day. It was the fact that the department had this strange sway over him. Perhaps it stemmed from Gin, being as odd and unpredictable as he was. Maybe it was the fact that children, in the very beginnings of their life, were threatened with the end.

Izuru tried pushing the latter thought from his head. If he wasn't depressing enough, thoughts like that were enough to make him lose it for good. Instead, he pinned the problem on Gin. The pediatrician was incredibly nice, almost to a fault. From what Izuru could see, Gin was the kind of person who would go out of their way to help someone. Yet Izuru couldn't shake the feeling that while he would go out of his way, in the end, he would want something in return.

However, Izuru never acted on the suspicion and merely answered to every beck and call of Gin's, no matter how trivial. If he wanted coffee, Izuru would ask if he had a flavor preference. He remembered once he had gone out to the grocery store to get dried persimmons (which Izuru considered to be the single most disgusting food item ever imagined) just because Gin had a craving one night. He would be thanked and sometimes Gin would go get him dinner—or an early breakfast—out of gratitude. Nothing negative had ever gone on between them but Izuru felt almost frightened to be in Gin's presence.

As Izuru came in to work one night, he was surprised to see Gin's face devoid of its typical fox-like grin (Izuru once or twice almost slipped and called him "Foxy-chan"). He slid his backpack off his shoulder and let it fall onto the chair behind the receptionist desk. "Um," he said quietly, successfully getting Gin's attention. "Dr. Ichimaru?"

"Oh, hey Izuru," the pediatrician answered, forcing a grin.

"Is there something wrong?"

Gin tilted his head a little and Izuru could see creases forming at the outer corners of his eyes, like he was squinting somehow. "No," he said quickly. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, you just look a little…off today."

"It's nothing," Gin responded, beginning to mindlessly click a pen that he had clenched in his hand. The clicking started off slow and quickened as the silence progressed. Finally, he stopped clicking and nodded to Izuru. "Go check on Yachiru later, 'kay? She's not lookin' too good."

Biting his lip and feeling like he would regret it later, Izuru said, "Is that what's bothering you?"

Gin's back straightened quickly, making Izuru flinch with the suddenness of the movement. He turned his head slowly and Izuru swore he saw Gin's rarely-seen irises glint at him. "Just go check on her. I have to go somewhere." Without another word, he stormed off, fists clenched and head bowed low.

"A-alright," Izuru stuttered to no one in particular. Gin's commanding presence had jarred him and he shakily pulled his sweatshirt over his head, tossing it beside his backpack. He reached into the bag and pulled out his stethoscope, putting it around his neck before walking through the hospital to make his rounds.

Yachiru was wide awake when he entered the room. Gin had been right, as she looked much paler than usual. However, she smiled at him as though nothing was wrong. "Hi Blondie!" she chirped, waving at him with enthusiasm.

"Hello Yachiru-chan," he responded, grabbing the clipboard and filling in his comments beside the scratchy handwriting of Gin's. "So Dr. Ichimaru said you weren't doing too well today," he said as he wrote.

"Yeah," she answered slowly, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a quick cough that didn't appear to have bothered her. "Foxy-chan wasn't happy when he came in but he said he was okay. He said I have icky snots right here," she said, pointing to her chest. Izuru noted that immediately, both her diagnosis and the fact that Gin was upset before he visited her.

"Well, let's check that out, shall we?" he said, positioning his stethoscope and placing the diaphragm on her back. "Okay Yachiru-chan, breathe in and out for me."

She did as he asked and he inwardly winced when he heard a deep rasping sound from deep within her lungs. It sounded almost like something was bubbling up inside and most definitely sounded painful. '_It couldn't be pneumonia again, could it?_' he asked himself. If that was what Gin thought, he could understand why it would make him more upset. Yachiru had had pneumonia in the past and it had not gone well. Izuru quickly wrote down that a chest x-ray would be in order and should be done immediately.

Once Yachiru's files were completely up to date, Izuru bid her farewell (to which she threatened that lest Izuru make Gin feel better, she would bombard him with "icky-chokies" until he couldn't see straight, or something to that effect). He turned out into the hallway and ran straight into Gin. The silver-haired man looked down at him, his smile returned to its normal form. "Hey 'Zuru," he said pleasantly.

"Oh, hello Dr. Ichimaru," Izuru answered, surprised at the sudden change in mood as well as the nickname.

Gin suddenly looked apologetically and put his hands behind his back, lowering his head just a little and swinging one foot back and forth like a child caught red-handed from stealing from a cookie jar. "Listen, I'm sorry for snappin' at ya earlier. I was just havin' a bad day and you were the nearest thing below the age of ten that I could vent on."

"O-oh, it's alright," Izuru said instantly, holding his hands up as though in surrender.

"Nah, it isn't. I shouldn't get nasty at coworkers, let alone my assistant, right?" he said pleasantly. "So I'll make it up to ya. Any way ya want, just name it."

Izuru knew he was either looking like a goldfish with his jaw open or was blushing like a schoolgirl as both were his usual reactions to things like this. "Y-you don't have to do anything for me Dr. Ichimaru. I didn't even notice you were…"

"Yes you did," Gin said instantly. He was beginning to look a little annoyed so Izuru just shut his mouth. That seemed to ease Gin just a little and he looked completely appeased again. "So we'll settle on me gettin' you somethin' from the cafeteria, okay?"

"If you want…"

"And I do," Gin said without missing a beat. He took a quick glance at his watch and nodded. "Alright, meet me in this hallway around three, got it?"

"O-okay," Izuru reluctantly agreed. He really didn't want to go with Dr. Ichimaru. It wasn't like he didn't like him as he actually liked him very much. He just had a sneaking suspicion that Gin was not in the best of moods, no matter how much he tried to cover it up. That, and Izuru didn't like people apologizing to him (or complimenting him for that matter). Even so, he couldn't say 'no'. It wasn't in his nature.

Gin was obviously satisfied with the answer and walked away, looking much happier than he had been earlier. Izuru just let out a long sigh and walked the opposite way, continuing to make his rounds.

* * *

Ikkaku Madarame was extremely stressed. In one room was a man who had mangled his hand in some way or another with his wife trying to explain what happened while in hysterics. In another room was a kid who had fallen from a jungle gym and hit her head on concrete, giving her a firm concussion. In yet another room was a little boy with a fever nearly eight degrees higher than it should have been. The bald doctor felt like he had to be there everywhere at once. Dr. Zaraki had his own cases to take care of and just as well was unseen in the ER.

However, he was used to it. Everyday was about the same and quiet days rarely happened. There were about six doctors spread through the ER, and almost fifteen nurses to assist them, along with numerous aides. They often had to call down doctors and nurses from other departments for emergency surgeries or check-ups. Renji was usually one to call people down and assist while Ikkaku was one of the six doctors.

At the moment, he was in a full-on sprint to the man with the mangled hand. He slid by one of the nurses walking by and had to grab a wall to stop himself. "Oi!" he practically shouted at her. Her eyes were wide and she stood at attention like a solider. He grunted and steadied himself. "Get Ayasegawa down to room A44 as soon as you see him, got it? I don't care if he's doing something else!"

"Yes sir-I mean, doctor!" she said, holding back from a salute. She then took off in the other direction, leaving Ikkaku to continue his sprint.

He almost threw himself into the room where the man's wife was still screaming and crying at the same time. One of the nurses was attempting to pacify her as best as he could, patting her on the back and trying to sound as comforting as possible. Ikkaku turned to her and fought to get his labcoat on. "Are you ready to tell us what happened?"

"H-he… He went to go out…o-outsiiii…" She burst into tears again and put her head in her hands while her husband's painful groans added a bass line to what Ikkaku considered the ER's eternal soundtrack.

"Mrs. Iseya, I need some straight answers," Ikkaku demanded. "If you want your husband to get better, you need to tell us what happened!"

Just as he said it, Yumichika walked into the room, fighting to put his dark hair in a ponytail while attempting not to look too guilty for showing up lately. He smiled apologetically and stood against the back wall. "Sorry about that Ikkaku-kun."

Ikkaku rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that and don't be late again. Now, Mrs. Iseya, try to stop crying and tell me. Yumichika, start examining the man's hand."

Yumichika saluted and dashed over to the stretcher, pulling up a stool and pulling some gloves on his hands. Meanwhile, Mrs. Iseya was wiping her eyes and explained in a shaky voice, "H-he went outs-side to f-fix the fan b-belt in our car a-and o-our son started th-the car w-while Kichiro's hand w-was still in there a-and…" She began crying again, much harder than before.

"Right," Ikkaku said, turning to Yumichika who looked nonplussed. Ikkaku arched an eyebrow. "What's that face for?"

"I don't think it was just a fan belt that did this. There's bone sticking out."

At those words, Mrs. Iseya let out a shriek before sobbing harder. Ikkaku massaged his temples. "Okay, get the forceps and see what you can do. I'm going to see if we can get a radiologist down here to x-ray it. And I want you to get another nurse down here to start conscious sedation. We want him to be able to respond, but not feel it, alright?"

"Gotcha," Yumichika answered, turning around and picking up a pair of long forceps from a towel-covered tray on a counter behind him.

Ikkaku began to walk out to get to the telephone but stopped to peek his head back in. "And Yumi?"

Yumichika's head went up at the sound of his nickname. "Yeah?"

"Remember to bandage it before the radiologist gets down here. If there's any risk for infection, eliminate it."

The violet-eyed nurse looked the smallest bit disappointed but nodded in compliance. "Alright."

"Thanks," Ikkaku responded, turning around and grabbing a telephone hooked to a wall nearby. He dialed the radiology department and waited until a receptionist picked up.

"University of Seireitei Hospital, radiology department!" she all but sang.

"Hi, this is Dr. Ikkaku Madarame in the ER. Can we get a radiologist down here for a hand x-ray?"

"Of course. Room number?"

"A44," Ikkaku said.

"Alright, we'll send someone down as soon as possible."

They hung up at the same time and Ikkaku walked back into the room where Yumichika had successfully pulled a large shard of broken bone from the hand and a nurse was standing beside the stretcher, preparing an IV. "Okay," Ikkaku said. "The radiologist is on their way down now so it shouldn't be too long."

Yumichika wiped his forehead with his wrist and nodded, grabbing a roll of bandages and wrapping the mangled hand carefully. He looked up at the injured man who was rolling his head back and forth, groaning quietly. "Is it too tight?" Yumichika asked with honest concern. The man, Kichiro, just shook his head and let out a low moan.

Ikkaku watched for just a second with a hint of a smile on his face. Yumichika was exceptionally careful with people placed in his care, as well as overtly kind to them. Dr. Zaraki and Ikkaku had talked before about how it was almost impossible to imagine the ER functioning correctly without Yumichika there to bring everyone down to a sane level. It was one of the first things he had noticed about the dark-haired nurse, and one of the things that began his non-admitted attraction. It certainly didn't hurt that the nurse was feminine, so Ikkaku didn't feel too out of his boundaries.

He soon jolted himself out of his reverie and walked out of the room to the bustling hallway, aiming to go see the girl with the concussion. He knew once Yumichika finished, he would happily follow Ikkaku. Loyalty was certainly a good attribute in Ikkaku's mind and he would certainly appreciate the help.

Just as he walked down the hallway to his destination, he brushed by a dark-haired man in scrubs and…was that a _69_ tattooed on his face? Ikkaku turned around once but the man was gone by then. He blinked a few times, shook his head, and continued onwards.

* * *

Shuuhei found he _did not_ like the ER. There was too much going on at once. The doctors, nurses, techs, and aides all seemed to be on speed constantly. It was a firm contrast to the near silent x-ray lab that he was used to. Therefore, he quietly walked by the high-powered flow of people that seemed more like a human jet than people working. It had been unfortunate that he had been the only tech in the lab at the moment the ER called for someone to come down. Of course, he didn't protest except in his mind.

He found the other reason he didn't like the ER was that he wasn't fond of the gory, mangled messes some people found themselves becoming. It wasn't like he wasn't used to seeing it, as many of the messes came to the lab to see how shattered their bones were. He just didn't like to see them before they were at least remotely cleaned up. At the mere mention of a man with a mangled hand, Shuuhei felt his stomach lurch. He kept his nausea and bay and told himself it was his _job_ to do this. Complaining wasn't going to pay off student loans or allow him grocery-shopping funds.

He managed to find A44 after almost being run down by two stretchers and passing by a walk-in who was screaming that he had worms in his veins. Shuuhei silently wondered how Renji could possibly stand being here. He quickly ducked into the room and felt his gag reflex nearly leap out of his mouth at the sight of the ailing patient. At least Yumichika was there, and the two had been acquainted enough that it lessened the impact of the sight.

"Oh, hello Shuuhei-kun!" the violet-eyed nurse nearly sang.

"Hi Yumi," Shuuhei replied in a strained voice, trying to keep his dinner down. He swallowed deeply and walked forward, scratching at the back of his neck to keep some of his nerve endings distracted. "So what happened?"

A sob came from a woman beside the stretcher that Yumichika promptly ignored. "This guy, Kichiro, got his hand caught in the fan belt of his car or something and his son started it while his hand was still in it."

Proper training stopped Shuuhei from letting out an unprofessional 'ew'. Slowly, he came to the side of the stretcher and eyed the hand, half-covered in bandages and certainly broken in more than a dozen spots. With careful movements of his hands, Shuuhei moved the wrist, trying not to get blood on him. The man yelped at one of the movements and Shuuhei nearly jumped. He took a step back and wiped his forehead. "His hand and wrist look like they were completely shattered."

Yumichika gestured to a metal tray where three somewhat cleaned bone shards lay. Forceps sat nearby along with a pile of blood-soaked bandages and towels. "I pulled those shards from his hand earlier. They were sticking out and obviously loose."

"Good job," Shuuhei complimented, earning a slight blush and a big grin from Yumichika. He leaned over and eyed the shards. Inwardly, he hissed at what was obviously one of the most difficult healing processes anyone could go through. Broken bones were easy to mend. _Shattered_ ones were like putting a torn painting back together, strip by strip. What was worse was that this man had a compounded fracture, where the bones had been driven together so harshly that some had been pushed _through_ his skin. In his mind, Shuuhei mentally listed the x-rays that would be needed to properly figure all the damage done to the man's hand, and possibly his arm.

"Alright, he'll need to be taken to the lab as soon as possible," Shuuhei said after finishing his hasty examination (nausea had lessened his time).

"How b-bad is it?" the crying woman asked.

Yumichika looked up at Shuuhei questioningly, as though asking about the seriousness of the wound. Shuuhei in turn shook his head and gave him a very dismal look in reply. For the few years the two had known each other, they had already figured a code for reporting damage. Decoding what Shuuhei had tried to put across, Yumichika turned to the woman and sighed. "Your husband's hand might not heal very well and I'm guessing a few fingers may have to be amputated."

Both Kichiro and his wife looked positively devastated, the wife more than Kichiro. He winced as another bout of pain shot up his arm before sighing, more in annoyance than discomfort. "A-at least it was just m-my hand," he gasped out, trying to force a smile.

Shuuhei managed a smile back before giving Yumichika a panicked look that screamed '_I have to get out of here_'. Yumichika seemed to understand and smiled pleasantly at the couple. "Okay, I'll take Kichiro upstairs later. Everything will be taken care of. Mrs. Iseya, have you considered staying in the hospital hotel for the night? I hear it's very nice…" Yumichika trailed on, allowing Shuuhei an escape to which he would thank the nurse gratefully for later.

He stepped out of the room and let out a long sigh, broken only by a sudden thrumming from his pager. Because cell phone use was banned in the x-ray lab due to high magnetism, Shuuhei often had to rely on his pager for anything that slightly resembled texting. He pressed the 'receive' button and smirked at the message reading: _Hey, it's Renji. You up for "dinner" after work?_

Shuuhei put the pager back in his pocket and walked to the elevator, aiming to write a message back to Renji's pager from the lab's computer. It was certainly more complicated than texting but it would have to do.

It didn't take very long to get back to the lab. He was just happy to get away from the ER, which smelled so strongly of blood and disinfectant. The lab was more familiar and had no scent except maybe of burnt coffee from the break room. He walked to the computer and sat down, logging into the university website to the employee page and putting Renji's pager number into the address bar. He quickly wrote back: _Sure thing. What time and where?_

Once the message was sent, Shuuhei leaned back, hesitantly waiting for his next patient. Hopefully, Yumichika was in the right sense of mind to clean the hand up even more. The fracture had been nasty enough as it was. The last thing Shuuhei wanted to see was a compound fracture pre-cleansed. Slowly, he rose from the chair and walked into the lab, putting on his apron and plastic glasses. He prepared a large slide for the hand and a longer slide for the arm.

With affection built up over his few years working at the hospital, he gently urged the x-ray machine to life, smiling inwardly at the familiar _hum_ that resounded. Just as the machine was turned on, the doors to the lab opened and Kichiro, accompanied by Yumichika and another nurse, was led into the room on his stretcher. Yumichika gave Shuuhei a thumbs-up before going outside to wait.

Shuuhei eyed the IV sticking from the man's arm, obviously leading to conscious sedation. He put a leaden apron over the man's hand and urged him to put his hand on the tray as gently as he possibly could. "Alright," he said. "This will take just a second. Don't move your hand if you can help it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Kichiro responded weakly, smiling with obvious signs of sedation on his face.

Shuuhei managed a small smile before ducking behind the machine and taking the photo. Once finished, he returned and delicately moved Kichiro's arm onto the longer slide. Just by moving the arm, Shuuhei could feel bones in it moving in a way they shouldn't, grinding against each other like gears. He wished that the x-ray could be done at another time but this was certainly an emergency.

The last photo was taken and the nurses came back in once Shuuhei removed the apron. The dark-haired radiographer nodded to Yumichika as he turned the machine off. "I'll develop these and get Renji to give them to you as soon as I can."

Yumichika paused in consideration as he checked the IV. "You don't want to go back down there, do you?"

"I don't even know why you work there," Shuuhei responded.

Playfully ruffling Shuuhei's already unruly black hair, Yumichika smiled and flashed a peace sign with his other hand. "I'm not a wuss like you." Before Shuuhei could retort, Yumichika was merrily leading the stretcher out of sight. He just grunted in irritation and walked back to develop the slides.

The processing machine took a few minutes to do its duty and as it did, Shuuhei's pager thrummed again. He checked the message: _My house before you go home. Good plan?_

"Great plan," Shuuhei said to no one in particular as the photos had finished processing. He gathered them up and took them to the light board, attaching each one to a clip and stepping back to examine them. Just as he had thought, the entire hand, wrist, and arm were riddled in small fractures. Pieces of bone had been ground to almost nothing and the pieces Yumichika had pulled out left small dark holes where they had once been. If this man ever recovered, it would be a miracle.

He slid the x-rays down and placed them in a folder which he marked clearly enough for Renji to decode. He placed them on the desk beside the computer and sat down, filling in the paging message once more: _Good plan. Pick up x-rays and we'll talk more._ He hit 'send' and sat back, sighing wistfully and closing his eyes in a single fluttering motion.


	4. The Countdown Starts

Oh, please kick me for being so late. My beta and I have been working like madness for this so I apologize A THOUSAND TIMES OVER. DX

Anyways, at least I got this out on my birthday! Yus, June 3rd is the writer's seventeenth birthday! Win for me!

So this chapter is bound to seem odd, seeing as how it's only three plotlines this time. The next chapter is ranging between five or six plotlines, including one for Hitsugaya for all the Hitsi fans out there. (I'm looking at you, Janelle!)

Yet again, I apologize so much for being so late. D:

And if you want a kick of my own personal comedy and you're over the age of thirteen, listen to the song 'I'm Not Your Boyfriend Baby' from 3OH!3 and imagine either Gin, Shuuhei, or any Bleach male singing it, specifically in the form of a duo. It creates the world's most hilarious mental picture. Or even better, picture any Bleach male singing 'Germans in Mexico' from Electric Six. :3

Chapter name comes from 'Major Tom (Coming Home)' from Peter Schilling/Shiny Toy Guns. I think it fits the soon-to-be heightening drama. :D

* * *

**Deux ex Caduceus**

**04 - The Countdown Starts  
**

* * *

Rukia was surprised when her brother knocked on her bedroom door. She was in the midst of doing homework, her eyes leaping from her '_Concepts of Human Anatomy and Physiology_' textbook to a pile of loose-leaf paper covered in restated answers. The knock had caused her to jump and let some of the papers slide off the binder resting on her lap to the bed. Quickly, she gathered them up while saying, "Come in!" The door opened and Byakuya peeked his head, looking somewhat flustered and almost _upset_. He was biting his lip before reverting to a much more composed demeanor.

"Rukia, when was the last time you talked to Renji Abarai?" he asked, his voice sounding strained and distant.

She looked up at him, confused. "Uh… A week ago, I guess. Why?"

Grayish-blue eyes slid from left to right slowly, as though he was considering something. "I didn't know he worked at the hospital."

"Well, yeah. He's worked there for a few years now," she answered, setting her pen aside. "He's worked in the ER ever since he got a transfer from trauma. Dr. Aizen said he had too much energy and sent him to Dr. Zaraki."

"I never knew that," Byakuya murmured. "Were you in college with him?"

She nodded and felt a little uncomfortable. "We started off on the same level but I ended up being a year behind him. He was way too smart to stay with the regular freshman."

Byakuya stayed silent and nodded. "Thanks Rukia," he said quietly, closing the door.

Rukia blinked and closed her textbook, setting the papers on top of it. She padded over to a dresser and pulled the top shelf open, reaching in and pulling out a sheet of paper. On it was a square timetable, topped off with the name 'Kurosaki Ichigo'. According to the timetable, he would be home seeing as how it was noon. Byakuya had gotten off work early that day and she didn't have to go to the hospital at all. She only had two hours of school anyways later in the evening to counter three hours of work. For once, she could talk to her best friend.

Putting the timetable back in the dresser, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Ichigo's number, sitting on the bed and waiting for him to pick up. After about ten more seconds of ringing, Ichigo finally picked up with a tired, "Hello?"

"Hey Ichigo," Rukia said.

There was a pause before Ichigo's voice came back, sounding much more energized. "Hey Rukia! What's up?"

"I just wanted to talk. I didn't go to work today so calling you sounded like a good idea."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Ichigo said cheerfully. "You're much better to talk to that my dad at least. That man has no friends."

Rukia laughed and smiled, her chest filling with a warm feeling. It was good to hear Ichigo's voice again. "Good to know," she answered. "So what are you up to?"

"Nothing really. I was taking a nap about fifteen minutes ago, and then my dad ran in here, accusing me of scratching the paint on his car. It ends up that he did it when he was taking out the trash this morning. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't committed seppuku yet in shame. What about you? Anything new and exciting in the world of Princess Kuchiki?"

"Nothing really. Byakuya asked me something weird today."

"Oh?"

"He asked about Renji."

"Why on earth did he ask about him?"

"I don't know," Rukia answered, complete with a shrug. "He seemed kind of upset though. He didn't even know Renji worked in the hospital."

Ichigo laughed over the phone and there was a noise Rukia identified as Ichigo falling onto his bed. "How long as Renji worked there? Like, six years or something?"

"Something like that. He didn't even know Renji and I went to college together. I guess the last time they saw each other was when Byakuya came to adopt me."

"But Renji said something about seeing your brother in his car a few times. I mean, he practically worships Byakuya's car."

"Huh. I wonder why Renji never said anything to me about it. I would think he would at least come up to me and say something like, 'Hey, tell your brother I like his car.' Don't you think?"

"Maybe," Ichigo murmured. He paused again, as though in deep consideration. "Well, does Renji like Byakuya as _himself_?"

Rukia opened her mouth to answer but found herself surprisingly speechless. She closed her mouth and thought over it. The day she had been adopted, she did have a faint memory of Renji looking particularly angry. He refused to meet her eyes and walked off with a murmured 'bye' as she was leaving. Perhaps he really _didn't_ like Byakuya. After all, before she was adopted, Renji was her closest thing to a brother. "You know," she finally answered. "I don't think Renji does like Byakuya."

"Well there's your answer," Ichigo said. "He likes the car, but not the man. I'm not surprised either. Byakuya isn't someone you can exactly ask to go to karaoke with. He's kind of…"

"An asshole?" Rukia finished.

"Yeah, he's kind of an asshole. Even my dad says he's stuck-up. That must be a neurosurgeon thing. Rikichi acts like that too."

"What about Dr. Kyoraku?"

"He's a neurologist, not a neurosurgeon. He just does surgery when he has to."

"Oh, well maybe it is a neurosurgery thing."

"Yeah, and it's stupid anyways. Isn't Byakuya an asshole to you too?"

Rukia bit her bottom lip and shrugged again, despite the fact that Ichigo obviously couldn't see it. "Sometimes he can be. He's not _that_ bad though. Maybe it's because I'm the only person that lives with him."

There was a long silence before Ichigo spoke again, a smirk obvious in his voice. "When was the last time your brother went on a date?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm just saying—maybe Byakuya is an asshole because he doesn't have anyone dogging him and telling him not to be one."

"What about me? I try to keep him from acting like that."

"You aren't around him constantly. And last time I checked, you're certainly not sleeping with him."

"Ichigo!" Rukia barked, sounding appalled.

"Hey, hey, hey, I was just joking," Ichigo replied, laughing and surrendering at the same time. "But seriously, do you remember what he was like when he was married?"

"No, his wife died before I was adopted."

"Aw, well you should try to hook him up anyways."

"How am _I_ supposed to find a date for him? It's not as if I can force him into it. He's very persistent!"

"Blind date? We hunt down someone that we think would be a good match for them and say that they should go to some restaurant at a specific time. They end up meeting and _voila_! Your brother has a date!"

"That's a horrible idea! Byakuya would never do that!"

"Then trick him into it. You're smart and you know him better than anyone in the world does. Come up with something!"

Rukia rubbed her forehead and grimaced. "You're asking the impossible of me."

"Am not," Ichigo retorted. "Maybe we can get Byakuya to quit being a jerk for at least a month. Then he'll stop being depressing and the entire neurosurgery department can get the communal stick out of their asses. Genius, no?"

"No, certainly not."

"C'mon Rukia," Ichigo pleaded. "Try for me?"

"Why would I try for you?"

"Because I'm your best friend ever?"

"Not good enough."

Ichigo tried again, "Because you loooove me?"

Rukia's breath caught in her throat but she excused it as reflex. She knew Ichigo was just kidding around so she let it out as a sigh. "Fine, but only so he can stop being a basket case. Now, who exactly do we hook him up with?"

"Well, think about it. Who do we know who acts just like him?"

"Or maybe, who do we know who is his polar opposite?"

Ichigo almost audibly blinked before speaking. "Why would we make him go out with his opposite?"

"It's logical that way. If we made him go out with someone who acts just like him, I think it would make his condition much worse. They would just make themselves into huge assholes and our plan would fail. We need someone with unending energy, who lives to have fun, and has a preferably low income."

After a long, drawn out silence of thought, Ichigo answered. "Renji."

"_No way in hell_," Rukia growled. "What made you think of him?"

"Think about it," Ichigo said pleasantly. "Renji is the exact opposite of Byakuya. Moreover, they don't seem to like each other. "

"This leads me to ask, yet again, why you even suggested it."

Ichigo laughed and hummed to himself. "Just let it sink it, Rukia. Renji and your brother…together…"

"…Ew," she said.

"No, not 'ew'. I think it would be cool. I mean, you know Renji goes both ways."

"Yeah, and what about Byakuya?"

"He _looks_ like he would."

Rukia laughed humorlessly. "He _looks_ like he would go both ways? You can pin it on him just by appearance?"

"Give it a chance," Ichigo pleaded. "If Byakuya gets pissed, tell him it was my fault. That way, the ninja squad that lives in your bushes will kill me instead of you."

"We have a ninja squad?"

"You're rich, aren't you? Don't all rich people have a ninja squad?"

Rukia rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't get you Ichigo."

"I love you too, Rukia," he said with a laugh.

"Anyways," she continued. "I'll do it but only to see you get massacred. Now let's drop it for now until it seems like a good time, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he responded.

"Good, now how have you been doing at work?"

"Ehh…"

"That doesn't sound good."

"Well, it could be better. I mean, you're way far ahead of me as far as residency. And it's going to be forever until I get my first rotation. The burn center is just so _depressing_, you know?"

"What's your next rotation?"

"Psychiatrics," he answered.

A short laugh escaped the black-haired girl and she leaned against the small mountain of pillows at the head of her bed. "And you think the burn center is depressing?"

"The people in the psych ward don't have third degree burns."

"But wait until you see the juveniles. Each of them has a story tagged to them that would make for an excellent novel guaranteed to make you stay up all night with a box of tissues next to you."

"Nice analogy."

"Thanks, I try."

"Anyways, I'm just pissed that my next rotation isn't for six more months. I mean, not only is it depressing here, but there are like, five other people doing their residencies in the same place. Some of them are pretty nice but there's this guy named Ishi…something or another. I guess his dad is on the Board of Directors or something fancy so he takes the opportunity to act like he not only has a stick up his ass, but a katana too. You'd think he was in some big samurai clan. He's an asshole."

"Sounds like you like him."

"Oh, I'd _like_ to kick his ass something fierce, but I know his dad would fire me in an instant. But Orihime Inoue works there too and I guess she makes up for him in a few ways."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, she's really nice. Not the brightest crayon in the box but certainly one of the most determined people I've met. She's sort of pretty too I guess."

Deep down, Rukia felt the tiniest tug of jealousy but ignored it. Ichigo was only a _friend_. He had always been such as far back as they had known each other. In response, she forced a smile into her voice. "That's nice Ichigo."

He audibly paused and spoke hesitantly, "Are you okay Rukia?"

"Huh? Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just spaced out for a second."

"Oh, okay. But yeah, I'm just ready to leave that stupid place."

Rukia just smiled and put one hand behind her head, listening to Ichigo ramble on about all the reasons he didn't like where he worked. She half-paid attention, listening more on the ups and downs his voice did, adding some sort of vibrancy to every word he said. She missed listening to that every day when she came into work. She missed their lunch breaks filled with deep conversations or just light chatter. In all, she missed _him_. Contently, she let herself fall into his voice, letting a 'hmm' out when he thought she might not have been listening.

They talked for hours until she was feeling her eyes begin to slide shut. She hadn't slept for almost a full day. Between her residency and studying for her classes, Rukia didn't have much time to relax. Now it was coming back to her and the comforting orchestra of Ichigo's voice was making it easier to fall asleep.

"Ichigo," she murmured, rubbing an eye and yawning.

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to fall asleep."

He laughed in that way he had when he was truthfully amused. "Am I just that boring?"

"Oh, not at all. I just haven't got much sleep."

There was a silence before he spoke again, his voice soft and melodious. "Do you want me to keep talking until you fall asleep?"

"Only if you want to."

"Rukia, we hardly talk since you got your new schedule. I _want_ to talk to you, even if it means you falling asleep on me."

She smiled sleepily and nodded while talking. "Alright, just keep talking then."

Therefore, he did. He went on and on about all sorts of subjects. He spoke of his father and his car obsession and of his sisters who were more like miniature versions of their mom. He spoke of feeling guilty whenever his father had to shuffle his children around and the fact that Ichigo didn't have the proper materials and abilities to assist in any way.

After awhile, Rukia became silent. Ichigo lowered his voice until all he could hear on the other line were a series of gentle and deep breaths. When he was one hundred percent sure she was asleep, he smiled. "Sweet dreams princess," he said, thinking she couldn't hear him.

However, she could. Her eyes had closed almost a half hour ago but her mind was awake, clinging to her time to talk to Ichigo. She smiled at the words and gently folded her phone shut when she heard him hang up. Grinning to herself, she pulled her bunny-shaped throw pillow up to her chest and fell asleep.

* * *

"So what do you want 'Zuru-kun? You can take yer pick. _Anything_ in this cafeteria." Gin Ichimaru was excitedly pointing to random stores positioned around the expansive cafeteria, happily regaling his favorite selections from each. Izuru wondered how the doctor kept such a thin frame if he apparently ate like a horse.

"I… I was just going to get a sandwich from the lunch line," Izuru said shyly.

Gin frowned in an amusing way, making him look more like a kicked puppy than a respected pediatrician. "Whaddaya mean? You can pick anything in this whole place and ya want a sandwich?"

"Well, yeah, sort of. It's what I usually get."

"Oh, get adventurous 'Zuru-kun! Get sushi rolls or something!"

"Uh, raw fish makes me nauseous."

"Well there has to be somethin' you want that isn't a sandwich."

Izuru looked around the cafeteria again. Certainly it was a good place to eat—usually in private. The arches that held up the glass-paned ceiling were made of steel painted in whitish-blue. A glass wall served as the observation point overlooking a good portion of the hospital and campus. However, he rarely ate here and instead preferred to get his food and go back to the break room where he was rarely bothered. Gin forcing him to eat in the cafeteria was unusually uncomfortable. Yet he couldn't say no and apparently, getting his usual tuna fish sandwich just wasn't enough. He looked around until he spotted a small stand that looked as if it had been yanked out of a traditional festival. It was a yakitori and takoyaki stand. Takoyaki was something he hadn't eaten since he was a child but he believed he liked it enough that the fox-like doctor might deem it suitable.

"Uh, how about takoyaki over there?" he said, pointing to the stand.

Gin immediately brightened up and his smile returned in a fey manner. "Good idea! I haven't had takoyaki since the last festival I went to." Without another word, he strolled over to the stand and ordered for Izuru without even consulting the blond. In a few minutes, the worker at the stand handed him a tray piled high with food. He happily strolled to a table by the glass wall and sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him. Izuru sighed and walked over, sitting opposite of the pediatrician and examining the food he had purchased.

"Ichimaru-san, isn't this a bit much?" he asked, eying a large box filled with about twelve large takoyaki dumplings. Beside that was a smaller box with four long yakitori skewers laying in it. Behind the boxes was an average bowl of rice. Izuru didn't eat very much to begin with but his manners got the best of him and he dreaded the stomachache that would follow eating all of it. He was thankful for the water bottle beside it all.

"Maa, 'Zuru-kun, ya need to eat more. Yer so skinny," Gin dismissed with a wave of his hand.

'_Speak for yourself_,' Izuru thought, his eyes darting between the three different dishes. He hesitantly took the package of chopsticks and pulled them out, breaking them with a quiet 'itadakimasu' muttered under his breath. Gin did the same and began scarfing down food in a way that certainly surprised Izuru. When he caught Izuru staring, he grinned with his mouth stuffed. "Wha'?" he managed.

"Nothing, Ichimaru-san," Izuru replied, picking up a takoyaki dumpling in between his chopsticks and carefully putting it into his mouth. Unlike his companion, he didn't go about it messily and actually swallowed his first bite of food before taking the second bite it.

"'Zuru-kun, yer eating like Kuchiki might eat," Gin commented, taking the time from eating to gulp down some water.

"I'm sorry," Izuru apologized, putting a small ball of sticky rice he had constructed into his mouth.

"No need ta apologize. I just find it weird," he said. Suddenly, his attention flew back to his tray and back up to his assistant. "'m still hungry," he murmured.

Izuru's eyes widened and he looked down at the opposing plate. "You're done already?"

"Yeah, but not full yet," Gin said, looking around for any other food stand that appealed to him. His face brightened and he excused himself. Izuru watched him and gaped when he went to a stand and got a reasonably huge stack of okonomiyaki. The second he sat down, he began shoveling it into his mouth. A passing Tetsuzaemon Iba quickly commented that Gin was a sick man before walking away. Izuru was just stunned.

"How can you eat all that?" he asked, slowly putting a ball of rice into his mouth.

"Maa, I'm from the hungriest part of Japan! Ya know what they say about people from Osaka! 'Kyoto people spend their paychecks on kimonos. Osaka people spend their paychecks on food.' I guess it's true fer me too."

"You're…you're from Osaka?"

The corners of Gin's eyes seemed to move up and down in a movement Izuru assumed was a blink. He swallowed his okonomiyaki and nodded. "Yeah, ya couldn't guess?"

"Not right away. I knew what region your accent was from. I just didn't know what city you were from."

"Yup, born and raised in Osaka 'til I was about ten or so. Then I got shipped off t'Kyoto. Kinda got the best of both worlds you could say."

Izuru found himself suddenly interested and mindlessly deposited another takoyaki dumpling into his mouth. "Where did you go to college?"

"I went back t'Osaka fer that. Or, I went there in the beginnin'. Then one of my professors said I was too smart for that college and I went back to Kyoto again. Finally, I was sick of movin' around and tired of stayin' in Kansai, so I went here. And let me guess," he said, touching the tips of his fingers together in front of his mouth. "Yer from around _here_."

"Well, no actually. I mean, I grew up here but it's not where I'm from."

Gin arched an eyebrow and picked up his chopsticks again, stuffing a glutinous mass of rice in his mouth and speaking past it. "So yrr not frm hrr?"

Izuru blinked and slowly decoded what Gin had said before nodding. "Yeah, I'm only half-Japanese."

"Really?"

"Mhmm. My father was Japanese and my mother was American." He reached up and held out a lock of blond hair. "That's where I got this from."

Gin swallowed the rice and nodded in understanding. "So did yer mom and dad move here with ya?"

"Yeah. My dad was in America two years before I was born for some trip for the business he owned. I guess she was an interpreter for the American affiliates he had and they had more in common than they thought. One year later, they got married. A year after that, I was born."

"Aw, that's kinda cute. So what made them move back here?"

Izuru shrugged and set his chopsticks down. "My dad missed Japan and my mom hadn't been here in years so she agreed to it. That, and she thought the school system was better. So they got a nice house in Yokohama and raised me there until I was eleven." Anticipating the obvious question of 'why', Izuru answered quickly, "They died when I was eleven."

Sympathy covered Gin's face and he nodded. "That's rough. Mind if I ask how?"

"It was while I was at school. Our house had a carbon monoxide leak and they died almost instantly. At least…" He paused for a moment and sighed. "At least it wasn't painful."

"What happened afterwards?"

"I went to live with my grandma in Fukushima. I inherited their entire estate but I wasn't allowed to touch it until I turned eighteen. That's how I got enrolled here. Not only did I keep my grades up but I had enough money for it. It was even easier because I'm bilingual so they took me in almost right away."

Once again, Gin nodded, looking almost introspectively at his food. He wondered inwardly why Izuru chose to tell so much about himself (little did he know, Izuru was stunned at his own actions as well). Also, he was amazed at what Izuru had gone through to get where he was in the first place. Suddenly, he understood the tired and diluted look and the endless need to please his superiors on the first try. It made so much more sense.

"What about you?" Izuru suddenly asked, abandoning all further pursuits of eating the veritable Japanese feast before him. "I said how I got here. Your turn."

"That's fair enough," Gin said, shrugging and casting a glimpse at the clock mounted above the cafeteria doors. They had ten more minutes to spare. "I was a child prodigy. Good enough?"

"How did you find out you were?"

"My mom kinda figured I was. She said I was always smart since I was a baby so she took me to some center fer smart kids and tested me. They said I was a genius. Got to high school and proved it by graduatin' early. Got some fancy scholarships and wound up here without havin' to pay a single yen."

Izuru had the suspicion that Gin was dancing around some strange secret by languidly explaining his past academic pursuits. There was a mother figure, but no father figure. There was no childhood story other than the move from Osaka to Kyoto. What was most notable to Izuru was the lack of explanation for Gin's strange behavior and his many quirks. However, it was certainly not in Izuru's place to begin to question the pediatrician, especially since they were only on a working basis and now were somewhat more of pleasant acquaintances. Izuru chose to say nothing but let his dissatisfaction radiate off him as he resumed picking at his food.

After a long pause, Gin leaned forward and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Sure ain't lookin' like nothin' to me. Ya got all quiet suddenly."

"You told me something about yourself. I don't think we have much else to say. Besides, we came here to eat, right?"

"I…guess," Gin said, looking at his food sideways. "Well, I'm done now."

"Me too," Izuru responded, picking up his tray suddenly and depositing the remainders in the trash before setting the tray in its proper place. He looked up at the clock and turned to glance at Gin. "Do you want to start heading back?"

"Yeah, why not?" Gin said, standing up and stretching out. As Izuru turned away, Gin watched him and sighed to himself. Izuru had certainly posed a conundrum to him. He had been in the presence of someone who had more depth to him than he had ever figured. He took it upon himself to figure Izuru out a little bit more. Little did he know, Izuru was thinking the same exact thing.

* * *

Neon-colored lines wavered in front of Rangiku's face as she tiredly watched the EKG of one of her patients. She stood beside the IV that was slowly dripping anesthetic into the veins of the unfortunate victim of yet another car accident. A long strip of metal had been shoved into the patient's ribcage, fortunately not hitting anything vital. However, it had to be surgically removed and where there was surgery, there was anesthesia.

"How is she reading?" a soft voice asked from behind Rangiku.

She whirled around and grinned at a familiar white-haired doctor. "Oh, hello Dr. Ukitake! All of the readings are fine. Her heart rate went up a few times before the anesthesia was applied. She should be fine now."

Ukitake smiled warmly and nodded in gratitude. "Thank you very much Matsumoto-san. I'll take it from here. We have another anesthesiologist on hand for when she needs to be woken up. You look tired anyways so it might be best for you to go up."

"Oh no," Rangiku said, waving her hands in front of her and smiling, albeit with much sleepiness in every expression. "I'm fine. I can do this."

A pale hand reached out and touched her shoulder gently, accompanied by a heart-melting grin Ukitake only used when he _really_ wanted his way. "Matsumoto-san, you've been working very hard and I think rest would be the best option for you."

Rangiku finally gave up on arguing, lowering her head and sighing. "Alright Dr. Ukitake. You win."

"Very good. Now get some coffee or something. You look like you need it."

"Just a little," Rangiku replied with a tired smile. She took her stethoscope off the top of the EKG machine and placed it around her neck, grinning once at Ukitake before walking into the hallway outside of the surgery clinic. The rhythmic steps of her tennis shoes pulled her into something akin to a trance as she walked along. Her mind shut off the entire world around her and she was left alone to her own thoughts.

It didn't surprise her that Dr. Ukitake would notice the sleepiness that was more than obvious on her face. First of all, he was highly perceptive. Second, it was becoming painfully certain that she was _stressed_. The night shift was sucking the very vitality from her while her personal life was taking care of the frail foundation that made her up. She liked her job, no doubt. Helping people was something she had always enjoyed. However, she had been moved to working nights due to the lack of anesthesiologists willing to work. Believing it would be somewhat exciting, she accepted. Now it wasn't the same as what her imagination had conjured. Her mind and body were exhausted by the shift in sleeping patterns and it was certainly lonely due to sleeping all day.

Then it came to her personal life—something she hated discussing. She had initially gone to college in Kyoto due to her talents and brains that she concealed with a prissy and joyful attitude. It was there that she met the object of her affection and her anguish, Gin Ichimaru. He had been rumored to have been the school's genius, yet the school's outcast all the same. That news surprised the redhead when she saw him. In her mind's eye, she pictured a nerdy, short, acne-riddled man who had _just_ come out of adolescence. She hardly pictured the tall, wispy, silver-haired, moonlit pale man with eyes set in a constantly amused façade. Right then and there, she fell in love with him.

Of course, it didn't take long to realize that there was a fine line between genius and insanity, and Gin was dancing on it. The '_outcast_' part of his description stemmed from the fact that he had turned down every date ever offered and disliked socializing with people who he didn't trust. From what she had seen, his life consisted of going to school, eating, and going home. There was nothing _fun_ with him, despite the grin on his face. Rangiku wanted nothing more than to change that.

It didn't take long for him to notice her. They had virtually the same schedule and lived in dorms adjacent to each other. She saw him every morning all the way until late noon. She had caught his eye more than enough yet pretended not to notice him in a way to fully snag his attention. However, it felt futile after the first two months of trying. He seemed to ignore her or pretend she didn't exist. Perhaps he was just the one who got away, or so she thought.

In fact, he _did_ like her. He just had an interesting way of showing it for the first time. Trauma interlaced with first meetings in a way that Rangiku certainly didn't like to reflect on, yet appreciated all the same. One night after coming home from a restaurant with some friends, Rangiku was attacked behind the dorms, nearly raped and threatened with death if she didn't comply. She truthfully thought the men would go through with it and silently cried as she feared for the end. That is, until the main attacker was promptly knocked out by an unseen force.

The only thing she could remember of the attack was a series of silver flashes that darted around before every man that had assaulted her lay on the ground, groaning in pain. One had his own switchblade embedded in his left leg. She remembered the first words she had ever heard him say.

"_That ain't a way to treat a lady."_

If she hadn't loved him before, he certainly stole her heart then. He walked to her, one pale hand extended in a helpful pose. All she could do was stare at it, eying the long, elegant fingers, the bones in his hand and wrist that formed it, and the way the skin seemed to reflect the moonlight above them. Only when he twitched it to get her attention did she realize she was meant to _hold_ his hand. She did so, marveling in the odd coolness that she found there. She looked into his face and noticed that smile she had seen before had taken on a new form. He looked sympathetic and almost…sad. He helped her up and looked her over once before becoming satisfied that she wasn't too badly hurt.

"_You okay?"_ he had asked.

"_Yes, thank you,"_ was her quiet response.

He turned away, still holding her hand tightly, protectively. _"Good. I thought I was gonna have 'ta kill 'em."_

As violent as that statement was, it comforted her. He then escorted her to her dorm, checking her once more before he allowed her inside. Once she reached the door, she turned to see him wave happily before almost _skipping_ to his dorm.

It wasn't until the next day that she found out the men that had attacked her were not only expelled, but placed in jail. She assumed the silver-haired man that had saved her had done everything. Yet he never took credit for it. He only wanted her to be safe.

That had been years ago in Rangiku's mind. She had dated Gin the entire time he was in college, which was not long at all due to his genius mind. He dated her while working at the hospital in the early years before they slowly separated until there was almost nothing between them. Yet he was still protective of her when he needed to be. She supposed she should be thankful, even though it hurt.

Now she was single once more, far away from the love of her life. She was trapped in a mindless cycle of working and sleeping with little time for fun in between. Of course, she forced herself to find a way to enjoy life. Sometimes she conned Isane from Rehab into going out sometimes. She had recently taken a liking in one of the students in working in the burn center. Even Momo Hinamori was not immune to being hauled away by Rangiku.

However, she wanted Gin more than any of them. He seemed so far away from her, even though they worked in the same hospital in the same building.

"Matsumoto," someone called, jolting her out of her thoughts mid-step. She whirled around to see a young-looking doctor, shorter than herself. His hair was stark white—much like Dr. Ukitake's—with cold blue eyes that added on to the chilly demeanor that seemed to hover around him. He was crossing his arms, looking more like an elementary school child in a labcoat than a respected doctor.

"Oh, hello Dr. Hitsugaya!" she said happily.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair that was already sticking up. "Matsumoto, you were walking right through the department. Where were you going?"

"Sorry," she apologized honestly. "I spaced out a little."

"I see that. Now, I just got a call from Dr. Zaraki in the ER and they're going to need you down there for transporting patients up to surgery."

"I just got _back_ from surgery!"

"Don't complain Matsumoto. This is very important. The patients are in critical condition and I do not believe they will make it without the anesthesia, despite both being in a coma. He'll need you there in an hour."

"Dr. Ukitake is just going to send me back when I get there," she responded quickly.

The short doctor frowned, his forehead creasing slightly. "Is he your boss?"

"Well, no."

"Then he has no room to tell you when to leave. You do your job and you do it correctly. That's all that matters."

"Oh fine. Anyways, can I ask you something?"

Hitsugaya looked a little surprised but passed it off by shrugging and nodding. "Yes, you may ask."

"Can you…can you check to see if an anesthesiologist might be needed in pediatrics any time soon?"

"That's an odd request Matsumoto."

"Well, I'm kind of tired of working in all these depressing places and the pediatric unit is so nice and colorful."

"The children that need the anesthesia there are usually _dying_, Matsumoto. I find that extremely depressing."

"Please check?" Rangiku pleaded, folding her hands in front of her and trying her best to give the doctor puppy-dog eyes.

"Alright, but I suspect an ulterior motive. This isn't about the head doctor down there, is it? What's his name…Ichimaru?"

Rangiku almost flinched but kept her composure, still pulling her pleading face. "Of course not Dr. Hitsugaya. This is purely for my own well-being."

He sighed and shook his head. "I have no idea why I do things for you."

"Because you love me and think I'm adorable?" she offered.

"That isn't what I had in mind but I allow you to tell yourself that if it makes you feel better. Moreover, yes, I will check but I can't guarantee anything. There are anesthesiologists there as well so odds are that they won't need an extra one and I'm not keen on giving up one of my best workers just on a whim."

"I know, I know. I promise I'll be good."

"Right."

"I will!"

"Just get downstairs in a half hour and I'll see what I can do."

Rangiku soon enveloped the tiny doctor in a bone-crushing hug, beginning the anaconda-like suffocation that came with having said doctor's face shoved straight into her more-than-ample cleavage. She squealed 'thank you' like a chant until he pushed away and gasped for air, waving her away while grasping his chest.


	5. Meeting with the Virus

Let me apologize _profusely_ for how late this is, and allow me to thank each and every person who reviewed, added this to their alerts or favorites list, or even added me to either list. As everyone knows, real life can be a harsh thing, and in the months I've taken as a sort of hiatus, real life was especially nasty. However, I have to thank you all again for your support, and an extra special thank you to those who even messaged me personally to ask if everything was okay. I can never thank you enough! :)

Luckily, I've been able to get relatively back on track with my writing. Unfortunately, this chapter is hardly as long as I wanted, but I think it became more of this huge urge for me to finally get this out there! I already began the sixth chapter yesterday, starting with what would have been the fourth section of this. I should never plan out what the next chapter entails. I jinx myself that way. xD

That being said, I do have a warning for this chapter for some gruesome descriptions of necrotizing fasciitis, or 'the flesh-eating virus'. But hey, who ever said hospital work was all broken bones and concussions?

Anyway, I thank you all again for your patience with me and I can at least promise that I'm definitely sticking with this and while I can't say the next chapter is going to come out soon, it_ will _come out eventually. XD

* * *

**Deus ex Caduceus **

**05 - Meeting with the Virus**

* * *

Renji's apartment was certainly not what Shuuhei would call an interior decorating dream. Between the hampers of unwashed clothing and the plethora of food leftovers that were happily fermenting on several surfaces of the house, Shuuhei wasn't quite sure _what_ to call it. He silently wondered if it was indeed possible to come out of the shower dirtier than when one goes in, because Renji's shower seemed to have that quality. While Renji called it a 'bachelor pad', Shuuhei called it a 'cesspool'.

Even so, he was used to coming over for any number of reasons, be it playing video games until unholy hours, watching a movie, or participating in a strange breakfast-dinner combo, which was why Shuuhei was there at the moment. Scratching at the grains in the wood of the dining room table, the black-haired man peered around the corner to see Renji leaning in front of his toaster, eyes trained on it as though the waffles warming inside would heat faster if optical power was applied.

"Abarai-kun, those waffles aren't going to warm up on demand. It's why toasters were invented."

"Shush, I'm training my laser vision."

Shuuhei rolled his eyes and smiled, resuming his diligent wood scratching. "So," he said absent-mindedly. "How goes life in the ER?"

"Eh, okay," Renji called back. "Hey, you want ravioli or mashed potatoes with your waffles?"

"I had ravioli with my omelette last time. I'll go with the potatoes today."

"A'ight. Anyways, it's all doing good. It's bloody as always."

"Yeah, that's why I work in radiology."

"You're missing out on all the fun, Shuu. Well, except for last night anyways."

Shuuhei raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What happened last night?"

The toaster shoved up two golden-brown waffles, which Renji made a desperate grab for, hissing through his teeth as he threw them down on the plate. He grabbed a bottle of syrup from beside the toaster and took it into the dining room. Placing it in front of Shuuhei, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "You remember those car crash people a few nights ago, yeah?"

"Yup," Shuuhei said, popping the cap open on the syrup and pouring an outrageous amount onto his plate. "Okay, Mount Waffle is a success. Bring me material to make the rest of the city."

"Right on it," Renji saluted. He walked back into the kitchen and examined the contents of the oven. "Eh, a few more minutes. So yeah, patient services finally got hold of the two foreigners' families. You wouldn't _believe_ what they said."

"Hmm?"

"Well Grimmjow, the one with blue hair—his family is in America. They couldn't afford to come out so they're saving up money now. That's the good news. The bad news is Ulquiorra's family. They're in Germany and they said they didn't care what happened."

Shuuhei's eyes widened and he peered around the corner again. "How could they not care that their kid is in a coma?"

"I don't know," Renji said, shrugging. He opened a cupboard and grabbed a paper plate from a small pile. "They said the hospital could do whatever we wanted with him because they didn't want him back."

"That's terrible."

"You're telling me. So Grimmjow is going to the ICU in two days or so. I have no idea what they're doing for Ulquiorra because Zaraki didn't tell me yet. Ikkaku said they're probably sending him up to ICU but after he's out of intensive care, they don't know what they're going to do. Patient abandonment isn't common around here."

"I would think so."

Renji opened the oven, took out three tinfoil-wrapped potatoes and tossed them on the plate, hissing as he burnt his fingers. He brought the plate in and sat down at the table, placing them next to a bag of pretzels. "There ya go. Have at it."

"With pleasure," Shuuhei responded, picking up a potato by the ends of the foil and putting it on his plate. He opened the foil and let the potato roll out. Tossing the foil to the side, he picked up his plate and began mashing the potato to bits. Meanwhile, Renji was happily creating what appeared to be a mashed potato whirlpool.

"Soooo… Guess who I saw yesterday?" Renji asked, swirling the contents with his fork.

"Hmm?"

"Dr. Kuchiki, in his office."

Shuuhei stopped his food-related architecture project for a moment to look up at his friend in surprise. "Woah, how'd you manage that? That's like going to meet Buddha or something, except much less…nice."

"Dr. Zaraki sent me to pick up a report from a surgery they did up in that department. I just wasn't expecting to get it directly from him."

"Well, yeah. He's like a celebrity among neurosurgeons. I kind of thought he was constantly busy," Shuuhei said, making a series of hills from his potatoes. He flipped the fork over and used the end to make a good-sized hole in the tallest hill.

"I thought he was too but yeah, I talked to him," Renji replied. He looked up at Shuuhei with a face that just _screamed_ that he had even more news, if not gossip. "Oh, and guess who I saw walking with Dr. Foxface before I left?"

"Ahhh, Matsumoto," Shuuhei guessed.

Renji grinned while pouring syrup into the whirlpool. "Nope, _Kira_."

"Like, Kira _Izuru_?"

"That's the Kira I'm talking about."

If Renji hadn't been looking, he wouldn't have caught the momentary flush on Shuuhei's face as he filled the cavity in the potatoes with ketchup. "Oh," he said quietly. "Well, he _is_ a nurse in the pediatrics."

"Yeah, but they were coming out of the cafeteria. Find that odd at all?"

"No, it could just be he went in the same time Dr. Ichimaru did."

"Shuu, you know that Kira doesn't like public eating spots. He takes all his food to his break room. I think something was going on."

A snide laugh came out of Shuuhei and he shook his head. "You _would_ think something was going on."

"Yeah, and you wouldn't. You're jealous, yeah?"

The ketchup bottle quit pouring as Shuuhei suddenly held very still, flushing again. "No," he said in a very serious voice. "Kira can go with whoever he wants. I don't own him or anything. He's just my…my best friend."

"Your best friend who you just so happen to have a crush on."

Shuuhei looked down and away, his gaze suddenly glued to the tatami flooring beside him. He appeared unusually morose, almost sickened. "It's impossible, okay Renji? I learned that already and I don't feel like going through it all over again. Kira-ku—_san_ isn't interested in me."

"Maa, Shuu, lighten up! You're about to devour the greatest known sculpture of food and you're moping about some blondie who has a preference in creepers. Isn't this—," he gestured to the food, "—more important?"

Grinning slightly, Shuuhei nodded. "I guess so, even though you brought it up. Besides, he hasn't gone for me in all the years I've liked him. _Years_. I stress the word."

"And stress more you shall if you keep moping. Now how about you destroy Mount Waffle while it's still hot?"

"Hah, yeah, good plan," the gray-eyed man replied, spearing the waffle with a fork and biting off it.

"Awesome. Besides, I'm _much_ better than that little blondie is anyways, yeah?"

"Sure Renji, sure."

"Aw, c'mon. I've got the looks, the brains, the _awesomeness_…"

"You just lack the house and the piles of money."

"And Kira's got that?"

"His house is clean, Renji. And he doesn't spend his paycheck on…questionable material."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"I don't believe you."

"Let us reflect on our college years, my dear Abarai. If the police had found what you had, you would still be in jail now."

"That was _then_, Shuu."

"Now it's shifted from questionable paraphernalia to erotic paraphernalia. Renji, I worry about your sex drive sometimes, or if you get any at all."

Renji began coughing, potato debris flying out of his mouth and spraying across the table. Shuuhei took his plate and inched away before going at the food again. The redhead wiped his mouth and shook his head. "Of course I get some! Do I look like the kind of guy that wouldn't?"

Shuuhei looked over his best friend once before nodding. "You have the look of a man deprived."

"I do _not_!"

"Alright, when was the last time you had sex?"

"U-um…" Renji stuttered, looking up at the ceiling as though the answer was written there, which it clearly was not. "W-well, it was so mind-blowing, I can't remember."

"Okay, then who was it with if it was so 'mind-blowing'?"

"No one that you would now!" Renji bit back defensively.

"Ooo, getting a tad defensive, yeah?"

"Alright, when was _your_ last time?"

"A couple years ago," Shuuhei said matter-of-factly.

"How come you aren't losing your mind?"

"Because I'm not as primal as you, Abarai. Unlike you, I don't need any magazines, half-assed videos, or even a dirty thought in my head. I'm content with everything I have."

"Remind me to nominate you for sainthood when I get a chance."

Shuuhei just shrugged, grabbing some pretzels and crushing, creating a fine bread-and-salt dust over his potatoes. "Sex isn't everything, you know."

"Well, it's _vital_, isn't it?"

"Not completely. I bet there are people who have never had sex before and are completely happy with themselves."

"Yeah, they're all under the age of sixteen," Renji responded, stuffing more potato into his mouth.

"Just saying, it's not such a big deal. I'm happy the way I am at the moment. Sure, being single sucks sometimes, but having a relationship isn't really…too important at the moment."

There was a moment of silence before Renji looked at him with confusion. "Then how come you still get worked up about Kira?"

"I'm not saying a relationship doesn't have any importance. I can still _like_ people."

Renji paused for a moment as though considering his food in earnest. "'S just weird, that's all. I always kinda took you for someone who really got around."

"Oh? Why's that?"

The redhead grinned and pointed to his own cheek. "The tattoo kinda made me think that was the case."

Shuuhei touched the 69 on his face and grinned. "Not entirely. I thought I told you what it was for?"

"Never said a word to me."

"I got it in honor of someone. It has no other connotation. However, it's pretty good when holding a conversation with someone attractive. They always think I'm kinky or something."

"No, _really_? You got tattoos on your face and you wear a leather choker."

"You have tattoos on your face too."

"_Head_, not _face_. People just think I'm in a gang. People think you're a sexual deviant. You should hear what people in the ER think of you when they see you, especially Ayasegawa."

"They talk about me?"

Renji rolled his eyes. "Duh, of course they do. Any place you go in the hospital, people talk about you. Face it, Shuu. You're _hot_ and people notice." Shuuhei almost physically jumped with those words and made an attempt to distract himself by tearing into a waffle, though the waffle did nothing to make the blush on his face disappear. It seemed almost comical, to see a man with such a hard exterior appearance blush over something so trivially obvious, or just _blush_ for that matter. Renji snorted and swirled the potatoes around more. "I'm kinda surprised Ayasegawa hasn't written 'Yumi loves Shuu' on a bathroom stall yet."

"I thought…Yumi and Ikkaku…"

"Ikkaku's in denial and Yumi is a flirt. They're never gonna get together."

"That's too bad. Yumi might as well worship the ground Ikkaku walks on, from the way I've seen it."

Dunking a forkful of waffle into mashed potatoes, Renji eyed it before speaking. "Not exactly the best ground to worship. Did ya know about Ikkaku's rep sheet? They almost didn't hire him. I mean, ya know how we all get background checks, right?"

"Yeah, they were iffy on hiring me, too," Shuuhei replied.

"Well, Ikkaku came into this place with fresh tattoos and a fouler mouth than Dr. Zaraki. He was an ass, plain and simple. But hell, he's _smart_. They took the consideration all the way to the board, and Ikkaku was freaking out 'cause he thought they'd reject him. Like, he's one of those alleyway kids and I guess he had to work his ass off to get here. So right when they thought it was totally hopeless? Zaraki himself went up there and made a case for 'im. It was pretty spectacular. Yumi just about batted his fake eyelashes right off." Renji paused and shoved the entire potato-covered-waffle-chunk in his mouth, swallowing hard. "Though it ain't like Ikkaku became a living saint after that."

"Oh?"

"He originally worked in the trauma clinic for about a week before they sent him back because of his 'bad attitude'," Renji stated, using his fingers as quotations. "Then Zaraki called up and said somethin' like he would take Ikkaku and make him fit to work here. An' everyone on our floor knew Ikkaku was _screwed_. So the bald bastard flaunts his way down to our floor with Yumi followin' him like a lost puppy."

Shuuhei put up a fork to pause Renji for a moment. "So was he hired alongside Yumichika?"

"Sure as hell was. Same graduating year and everything. They hired Yumi on the spot but he wasn't going anywhere without Ikkaku. I shoulda said so earlier. Anyway, Ikkaku decides to play as a badass and even stick his nose up around Zaraki. Then one day, he gets on Zaraki's last nerve and the big guy slammed him on a stretcher and told him if he didn't get his act together, he was gonna be the one in intensive care."

"Oh, I heard something about that. Didn't Dr. Zaraki almost get fired?"

"Yeah, but then Ikkaku stood up for him and said it was necessary. It was like a moment from a movie, the way it went. Now he's like the star performer of the ER or somethin' like that. Load 'a shit, if ya ask me."

A smirk formed on Shuuhei's face and he leaned over the table. "You sound kind of jealous, Abarai."

Renji leaned as far back as Shuuhei was leaning forward and made a disgusted expression. "What the hell do I have to be jealous of? I work with a guy so bald that it's blinding and a transsexual-in-the-making. There's a reason I wanna quit, ya know. It ain't even about the money."

This made Shuuhei raise an eyebrow. He pushed his now empty plate away and rested his hand on his propped up hand. "You want to quit?"

"Just the ER. It's not what I wanna do, I guess," Renji replied, swirling around his mashed potatoes with his fork with half-interest. "I mean, d'ya ever get tired of working in radiology?"

"Not really. I like my job. I spend more time there than I do at home."

There was a prolonged pause and Renji sighed, setting his fork down and pushing his plate forward for Shuuhei to collect along with his own. As Shuuhei discarded of the trash, Renji kept talking. "See, I _wish_ I liked mine enough to _want_ to spend more time there than here. But as it is right now, all I wanna do is sit around my apartment and not even get close to the parking lot. I'm kinda done with adrenaline rushes. They're only cool when you're like…twenty."

Shuuhei peeked around the corner as he began washing the forks off in the sink. The smirk had returned to his face. "Are you saying you're getting old?"

"No! Hell, I'm in my _prime_, Shuu! I just don't wanna wear myself out this early in the game, you know?"

"Not really," Shuuhei said, ducking back into the kitchen.

"Well, you're weird and just x-ray all day. All that radiation probably killed off your brain cells."

"Better than burning them off with adrenaline rushes. Anyway, where would you want to work?"

Renji sat and thought about this for a long moment, listening to the faint hissing of the faucet and clinking of utensils being washed. Briefly, he could hear Byakuya's voice in his head, saying, '_Do you like working there?_' His breath caught in his throat and he physically winced. He had said yes to that question before, more unsure than positive. Or perhaps he just wanted to prove to Byakuya that he was capable of sticking with something instead of giving up and looking like the loser he believed Byakuya thought of him as. Slowly, he came to his conclusion. "I would work in neurosurgery, if I had a choice."

* * *

The meeting room seemed colder than usual, Sousuke Aizen noticed. The whitewashed, decoration-less walls didn't help the matter, and somewhere that he couldn't see, a radiator was desperately clicking to life. He pulled his wool cardigan tightly around him and adjusted his glasses, shuffling towards the seat labeled by a bronze plaque reading 'S. Aizen'.

On one side of his seat was a tired looking man with the most unusual tousled blue hair. His eyes were an equally odd shade of golden-brown, almost yellow in the fluorescent lighting. His labcoat was stained with splotches of questionable colors and the frayed blue embroidered name on the coat read 'M. Kurotsuchi, PhD.'

"Mayuri-san," Aizen greeted in a friendly tone, pulling his chair back and sitting down.

"Aizen," Mayuri replied stiffly, beginning to click a pen that sat beside a stack of papers on the table before him.

Aizen folded his hands on the table and glanced around the room. At the head of the table was an old man with a beard that almost went onto the table. His eyes could not be seen among the numerous wrinkles on his face, though he looked pleasant enough. The old man nodded to Aizen as he greeted him. "Glad you could join us, Sousuke. We are just waiting on Dr. Ukitake to join us and we may begin."

"I'm here, Yamamoto-sama!" called a voice from the doorway. Juushiro Ukitake loped into the room, a jovial smile on his face as he took a seat next to Toshiro Hitsugaya, who gave him a greeting that was about as friendly as the one Mayuri had given Sousuke.

"Very well," Yamamoto murmured in his rough, wheezing voice. "Thank you for attending this meeting, everyone. Dr. Sasakibe has provided you all with packets concerning the hospital's finances, programs, units, staff statistics, and topics that several of you brought up in meetings past. To start off, Dr. Kurotsuchi has asked that we discuss the finances for the research and development department, which is detailed in section five of the packet. Dr. Kurotsuchi, would you care to enlighten us?"

Mayuri cleared his throat and stood up, focusing his weight on one foot and giving him an awkward appearance, like one who was put together unevenly. "Yes, my assistant and I went over the projects we want to pursue, with our new theories and obviously, new medical developments. She gave me a total for how much this new research should cost the hospital. I'm willing to provide for the more menial costs, but I'd like the board to go over this."

"Very well," Yamamoto responded, looking down at his own sheet. "Your assistant provided very detailed information. Unless there is any immediate response to this subject, I think it would be best to give members of the board time to look over the information, and then give their answers next meeting. Is there anyone who would like to say anything?"

"Yeah," grumbled Zaraki, who stood up slowly and put his hands on the table. "Why the hell are we spending so much on this science shi—_crap_ when my department doesn't have all the beds or equipment it needs? And Ichimaru, didn't you say somethin' the other day about outdated oxygen tanks?"

Gin, sitting on the other side of Hitsugaya, nodded slowly, as though considering something. His usual smile was tainted with a slight frown and he turned to Mayuri, propping his head up on his hand. "Dr. Kurotsuchi, does yer idea for this involve us bringin' any money _into_ this hospital?"

The scientist nodded, though his glare was set on Zaraki who had since sat down and was responding with a heated glare of his own. Mayuri adjusted his labcoat as though it would make him any more presentable and nodded again. "In retrospect, yes it would. Other respectable scientific institutions would pay _us_ for the results of our findings. Just as well, some of the discoveries we may make could benefit the medical world as a whole, which can turn out to be cost-effective, if you want to think that way."

"You say it _may_," Hitsugaya replied, casting a sidelong glance at Mayuri. "Are you not totally certain as to your scientific efficiency and ideas?"

"I'm _positive_, Dr. Hitsugaya. My life has been dedicated to the pursuit of science in all of its forms. I make no mistakes."

A white-haired man sitting on the side of Yamamoto adjusted his glasses and frowned. "That sort of thinking gets people in trouble, Dr. Kurotsuchi. This hospital is respected for the quality of its work, but we don't boast."

"Dr. Ishida," Mayuri said slowly, putting stress on every syllable. It was obvious the scientist was losing his patience. "I'm not _boasting_. I'm stating facts. There has not been a flaw in my work. Not one detail has escaped my eyes. Every experiment and finding is carefully documented by my team and I only pick the best, the brightest, and the most detail-savvy people to work under me. In my position, mistakes are not tolerated. I'm sure of my work and I am sure of this plan. I have made my assistant go over the math in the plan and even went as far to go over it myself, just to be sure. There isn't one yen that will be unaccounted for. Of this, I'm sure."

There was a prevailing silence over the board before Yamamoto spoke. "Dr. Kurotsuchi has stated his side, and as I have said before, we shall all go over this and discuss the matter in the next meeting. I am aware that we have other financial demands and needs from each department, and if I am correct, they are all in this packet. Now, is there anything else anyone would like to discuss?"

Aizen shifted in his seat, as though to hesitate, before raising his hand. Yamamoto looked to him and nodded in his direction, "Yes, Sousuke?"

As Kurotsuchi settled in his seat, Aizen stood up, his voice lowered in an attempt to shift the atmosphere of the room from something tense to something far more calming. "I understand it's frowned upon to bring matters of my patients in front of my co-workers, but as several of you are already aware, we have a most unusual situation regarding a comatose patient."

"I was about to say something about that," Retsu Unohana said softly.

Aizen nodded to her, "As I thought it best to do, Unohana-san." He turned back to face Yamamoto, eyes downcast for a moment. "Unohana-san, Ukitake-san, Zaraki-san, and I have all had a hand in taking care of two of the patients. One of them has a very high chance of recovery, as well as his family has already been notified and will be here in several weeks to retrieve him and take him back to an American hospital. It is the other one I am concerned about. Ah, Ukitake-san, you told me just the other day that you had information regarding his status?"

Ukitake glanced up to Aizen with a solemn expression before standing up, his voice coming out in a soft rasp. "As head of the Intensive Care Unit, in joint care with the Emergency Room, several of our nurses have run tests on the patient, one named Ulquiorra Schiffer. Unfortunately, as with all comatose patients, he is not responding to any outside stimuli, and we have evidence that has led us to believe that even if he should recover, the damage to certain parts of his brain are irreversible. Detailed reports have shown that his memory retention would be affected, as well as motor skills, vision, emotional capability, and perhaps vocal ability."

"Pretty straight up, the kid would probably rather be dead," Zaraki interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "We sent him through a CAT scan and an MRI, an' each time, the scans kept saying he's got about a much of a chance at survivin' as a mouse in a trap."

"This is true," Ukitake said lamentably. "I'm already aware we have had fatalities with head trauma, but that is not my current concern. My biggest concern is that since he is foreign-born, we contacted his family, and they want nothing to do with him. I do not believe this hospital has ever had a situation where a foreign-born patient was completely cut off from the family. The question then becomes…what are we going to do with him?"

There was a long, contemplative silence before Byakuya Kuchiki spoke, to the surprise of everyone in the meeting. "I would like to have a look at him," he said quietly. "Dr. Kyoraku and I are specialists when it comes to a situation like this. As to his situation, we cannot turn him away. It is hospital policy that no person in need of immediate and dire medical treatment be turned away for lack of funds or for situation of background. If he is to make a recovery, then we shall worry about this further."

"I agree," Shunsui Kyoraku quipped, a telltale smile on his face. "If the kid needs our help, then who's gonna say we can't help him?"

All eyes turned to Yamamoto, who kept his eyes trained on the edge of the table before nodding slowly, one hand wrenched firmly around his cane. "Indeed, the policy states this, and we shall continue his treatment until his state changes. Is this understood?"

There was a unanimous mumble of agreement around the table, which led both Ukitake and Aizen to take their seats, confident that the predicament was solved. The rest of the meeting persisted on slowly, as usual, but the entire duration of it, Aizen just listened to the idle clicking of the radiator.

* * *

Ikkaku had gone through a persistently difficult day. As soon as he had arrived at work, he had been assaulted with a packet flung at his face from a tech who was racing by, half-screaming that he had someone with grand mal seizures in one of the rooms and the person had been choking on their own vomit last the tech had seen. That situation had gone by about as smoothly as an unpaved road, with Ikkaku having to change his scrubs twice and having to nurse a large bruise on his hand from holding the convulsing man down as another seizure attacked him.

After that, he had encountered a screaming woman holding a tired-looking four-year-old girl, claiming that she believed her daughter had ingested antifreeze. In truth, the girl had found a bottle of blue flavored-water and was just ready for a nap. The woman's defense was along the lines of: "B-but I saw on the TV! The boy…he drank some antifreeze a-and they took him to…to the hospital!"

"Ma'am," Ikkaku said, rubbing his temples desperately. "If your daughter had really ingested antifreeze in the amount you say, she would be screaming bloody murder or be dead by now." The woman, somewhat in a frustrated shock, left the hospital with her daughter happily snoozing in her arms.

Shortly after that, he had a sort of gauntlet of high-degree fevers, broken legs, asthma attacks, and a displaced hip. However, nothing prepared him for what a pale-faced, horrified-looking Yumichika had to report to him.

"Necrotizing fasciitis," Yumichika said quietly, as through trying to contain panic.

"…What?"

"Bee sting. Necrotizing fasciitis," Yumichika said a little louder, holding out a clipboard to Ikkaku. There was the evidence, staring up at him with shaky handwriting claiming anaphylactic shock and persisting necrosis in the right shoulder and neck. Obtaining necrotizing fasciitis was about as rare as finding a needle in a haystack, and what was rarer was the chance at survival. In his memory, Ikkaku had only dealt with anything necrosis-related during his first year, where a patient came in with a persisting case of it on his leg, which was promptly amputated, thus saving the man's life. This situation, however, would not prove to be so easy.

"Is the necrosis nearing any arteries?" he asked, praying for a decent answer.

Yumichika looked down at the tiles and made a vague gesture to his neck. "Near the carotid arteries and the jugular veins."

Like a regular animal of prey, the bacteria was aiming for the neck, and from how it sounded, the prey had already been seized. There was a lot to think about in a short amount of time, and there was the ultimate decision for Ikkaku to make. Either he could attempt to slow the bacteria's progress, which ran an extremely high risk of complete failure, or he could administer a numbing anesthetic so the patient could pass away, relatively free of pain. Both options had negative consequences, no matter how Ikkaku approached it. There was death snarling at one end, and an extremely painful existence on the other. It came down to seeing the patient, in the end.

Ikkaku donned the familiar surgeon's mask, securing a pair of rubber gloves on his hands and walking in to the semi-quarantined room where a group of buzzing techs and nurses tried their best to do _something_ for the man on the bed. Ikkaku could _smell_ him before he _saw_ him, even with the mask covering his nose. It was the sickly-sweet stench of rotting flesh, which was forming a myriad of colors on the man's exposed shoulder and neck. The man couldn't have been in his thirties yet, his eyes wide and rolling back in his head, be it from pain or shock. The necrosis made a long, thick trail of purplish skin, flanked by green and yellow ridges and finally going down into dark red pits of flesh already rotted away, revealing muscle and tendon. The wounds were already deep, and the towels that had been tucked underneath him were already completely stained with blood.

"Madarame-san!" one of the nurses shouted over the tumult, running over to him with panic written all across her face.

Ikkaku at first was unsure how to respond. The scene looked surreal. He had seen people come in looking like the only thing keeping them attached to life was the very fleshy thread of a tendon, or by the tiny capillaries running underneath their skin. This man had _nothing_ except some sort of wild will to live. However, will could only last so long before there was nothing left except an infected body with nothing inside. The decision was all too clear.

"Get a sample of the tissue for the lab," he said quickly before shaking his head. "And then start up an intravenous anesthetic drip. I don't care what you give him as long as it's _strong_."

The nurse looked horrified for a second, her hands gripping her scrub pants so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "He's going to…?"

"Yeah, the man's practically dead already. The least we can do is make it a little less painful for him."

She looked torn and hesitant, turning her head to look at the patient but deciding against it for the obvious horrors that took place behind her. "Yes," she finally replied in a soft voice, dashing out of the room.

Beyond that was a blur, of sample-taking and bags of a clear barbiturate that served as an IV. There were the quieting moans of the dying man, the wild chatter of the nurses and technicians, the erratic chirping of the heart monitor, then…a flat green line. It didn't waver or taper, but showed its ugly face at Ikkaku, like a sneer from Death itself. He said nothing for a long while, only shaking his head when a nurse went to fetch a defibrillator. "There's no use," he said. "No use."

That's how he felt as he walked into the narrow, shuddering waiting room, where the pale, frightened faces of an older woman, a younger one, and a young boy waited, eyes gleaming with hope or perhaps foreboding. "I'm very sorry," Ikkaku said quietly, feeling so horribly scripted. "There was nothing more we could do for him." Then came the mourning and the voiceless cries that he never wanted to hear again.

It seemed like weeks when he finally slumped into a chair in the break room, when it had only been an hour. His head hit his folded arms on the table and he closed his eyes, trying to fight back the persisting feeling that he hadn't done enough. He felt angry and enraged, perhaps even betrayed somehow. What would Zaraki have done? Or even Renji, as stupid as he seemed sometimes? Why weren't they behind him the whole time? He knew he shouldn't blame them, as in all honesty, no one was at fault except the bacteria of nature's evil devices. However, it never stopped the free flow of guilt that came with every lost life he witnessed. He could stick his finger in the dam, but the water would flow out of another hole. There was so little he could do, in the end. As Zaraki had said once, '_It's almost useless trying to save their lives. Everyone's gonna die eventually._'

There was a shuffling behind him and a feminine scent of jasmine and something a little headier descended on him. "Yumi," he muttered against one arm.

A chair squeaked beside him as Yumichika sat down, propping his head up on one elbow and tapping his manicured fingernails idly against the Formica tabletop. "So, where's the Lucky-Lucky Dance?"

"The guy died," Ikkaku responded, not moving.

"Mhmm, I know. So where's the Dance?"

Ikkaku looked up at him, nonplussed. "Th'hell are you goin' on about?"

A knowing smile appeared on Yumichika's face and he ceased his table tapping, instead examining his nails. "I have a theory, Ikkaku-kun. Care to hear it?"

"Why not? Not like you'd stop if I said no."

"Good boy. Now, I know I didn't feel any better about that man than you did, and when I saw him, I knew what was going to happen. However," he paused, holding up one finger in Ikkaku's face. "I believe that the man was _very_ lucky to have someone like you take care of him."

"He _died_," Ikkaku repeated, the skin of his forehead furrowing to make up for his lack of eyebrows.

"Yes, I _know_. Now let me finish. He was _lucky_ because you didn't waste time with what even he knew was the end. Had anyone else done it, they probably would have tried to quarantine the spread, and you can only guess how futile that would have been. He was lucky for being treated by someone who got rid of his pain in his final moments. Wouldn't you feel lucky, too?"

Ikkaku remained silent, his head tilting very slightly, either in confusion or for Yumichika to continue, which he happily did.

"And you, my darling bald friend, were lucky because that man couldn't have passed away more peacefully in anyone's care. You're _so_ lucky he didn't die a screaming mess."

"That's…kinda harsh, Yumi," Ikkaku said, but the faintest hint of a smile was in his voice.

"Mmm, harsh, but all too true, don't you think?"

The bald man remained quiet again before weakly putting his hands above his head, curling his fingers into fists, and shaking them back and forth with a slight wiggle. Then he put his arms back on the table, his grin askew on his face. "Better?"

"Hm, it could have a bit more gratitude in it."

Ikkaku resumed the position and couldn't hold back a quiet snort. "Lucky, lucky."


End file.
